Morality
by obsessed1
Summary: Sheppard is taken prisoner and is forced to fight for his life. SHEP WHUMP as standard.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Somebody was patting down his tactical vest and then pulling open one of the pockets to feel inside. Without opening his eyes, and used to the daily invasion of his personal space and privacy, Sheppard reached up and gripped whoever it was by the wrist.

"They already _took_ everything," he said.

Tucked up into the corner of the cell, cold and shivering, he wearily opened his eyes.

The dirty faced man in front of him retracted his hand, rubbed the bruised area and crept backwards to the other side of the cell.

Sheppard closed his eyes again, feeling the cold from the stone bricks seep through into his clothes, and allowed himself to drift back into an unsettled sleep.

The cell was expansive, stretching out under the complex in a series of chambers and cubby holes. He could hear voices whisper around him, people coughing in fits and the many that were truly unsettled wandering around aimlessly, their feet dragging across the concrete. The smell of urine, body odour and blood tainted the air making it impossible to filter out and occasionally a body would drop. A few people would scramble around to salvage what they could from the corpse before moving off to their section of the wall where they would wait in the shadows for somebody else to die of fatal injuries.

The sound of something connecting with flesh had Sheppard cracking one eye open in the semi-darkness. Two men were fighting, exchanging misguided blows, and shouting at one another. Their voices echoed down the various chambers and Sheppard decided to intervene before it raised the awareness of their keepers.

He pushed himself up, steeling himself against a wave of dizziness which threatened to send him back down to the floor.

"Come on guys," he said walking unsteadily over to the ensuing argument. He had to use the walls for support as he went.

"Keep out of this," the larger of the two men spat out.

Sheppard screwed up his face and put his hands up, "Look this is ridiculous." He stood straight, his hand automatically resting where his side arm ought to be.

The larger man sucker punched the other guy and sent him sprawling down onto the floor.

Sheppard shook his head, "If you guys want to kill each other, _fine_, just don't do it down here," he began to stagger off back to his corner.

"Hey," the large guy was calling after him.

Sheppard stopped but didn't turn, "You won your little fight," he said wearily.

He turned and was caught off-guard when a fist struck him in the face. He twisted awkwardly without going down and managed to look up to see others gathering around them in the dimly lit cell.

"Look," he said raising his hands and feeling blood dribble down his chin, "I was ju-" The guy grabbed him by the head and kneed him in the nose.

This time Sheppard went down to the ground spitting blood. He got up onto his knees and another vicious kick was directed to his ribs. He tried to drag in oxygen as his brain reeled from sensory overload.

He watched as the larger guy walked off to another chamber, leaving him to cough and retch. The others who had gathered lost interest and shuffled back to their respective haunts.

Sheppard managed to crawl back to his corner and sat stiffly with his knees up to his chest which burned with every breath.

He licked his lips and tasted the metallic tang of blood. Using the bottom of his t-shirt he wiped the blood from around his nose and then resumed his previous position.

Head against the wall, eyes closed, laboured breathing.

Another hand was on his shoulder, prodding and shaking him, "I'm alive," he said before listening to whoever it was walk off.

Sheppard sighed, shook his head and found his mind drifting back to the last few days. He'd had a pervasive bad feeling from the start and he was beginning to wish he had acted on it.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The pitiful whining coming from across the cell made Sheppard open his eyes. He'd been listening to it for the past, god knows, how many hours and it was beginning to annoy him. He didn't have the heart to tell the guy to shut up. After all, if that was how that guy wanted to spend his miserable time here, who was he to stop him.

A low groan escaped his own lips when he shifted and a throb of pain made his insides clench. He wasn't sure if his ribs were bruised or busted. He hoped it was the former and that he wouldn't have a punctured lung to contend with in the next few days.

Resuming his head against the wall, closed eyes, routine he began to think back to two days ago.

The day that he'd been brought here.

They'd been walking around MX576, in the pouring rain, and had found no signs of life. Mckay had been moaning incessantly and he'd been walking stubbornly ahead trying to block him out.

"Can you believe there is nothing here. Nothing," he had repeated.

Nobody had responded, which only served to fuel Mckay's rant, "Next time, I'm not coming off-world unless I know that there is actually something to see."

"Rodney. We're heading back to the gate so you can quit your whining," Sheppard had said.

"I don't whine." Mckay had been silent after that.

"Stop sulking then." Sheppard couldn't help it. The mission had been boring and winding up Mckay had been his only enjoyment. He really should try to curb that compulsion.

"I'm _not_ sulking."

"You're sulking," Ronon had said.

Sheppard remembered laughing at that. He hadn't laughed since.

When figures had rushed out of the undergrowth he'd reacted instantly but not quickly enough it would have seemed.

He'd been struck across the face and had been sent sprawling down to the ground. He remembered that he had bit his tongue in the process and had choked on a mixture of rain water and blood.

Even now, as he shivered, he could remember the distant sounds of the others fighting the strange gnarled faced figures. He'd been too slow to get up and one of those ugly creatures had jumped on top of him, bearing him down into the mud. He'd managed to position his P90 up and fired off a few rounds into its gut. The green blood which had sprayed him in the face had made him gag.

He had got up to his feet gingerly, fired off another round and turned to _just_ avoid being stabbed in the stomach by Ronon's knife. They'd shared a look that said, 'that had been too close' and he'd made some stupid joke.

He'd quickly repositioned Ronon's knife and said, "Next time, stab me there. That way you miss my vital organs and I don't bleed to death." That quip had afforded him a punch to the face from another attacker and, moments later, he'd been slammed into the ground again as Ronon dug his knife into his assailants back.

Ronon had pulled him back up and he had searched for Mckay and Teyla.

He saw that they were pitted in their own battles, Teyla firing off bullets, Mckay holding his gun up with two hands and stepping backwards, talking incoherently. He'd helped out Teyla and then run over to Mckay to push him away from the fight.

A kick to his legs and the gnarled beings had clawed at his back with huge talons.

Sure it had stung, but not nearly as much, as seeing Mckay being thrown to the ground and receiving a beating himself.

"Fall back!" he'd shouted.

In his cell, Sheppard laughed bitterly, and saw that the whining guy was staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

The dirty man looked back down at the floor and continued his own twisted reverie.

He let his mind drift back again.

They'd managed to run. He'd been tripping over his own feet, the thunder an accompaniment to his mis-guided footfalls. Mckay was ahead of him, Ronon and Teyla to his flank.

He didn't know when exactly he'd been alerted to the fact that he had been shot in the neck by something. All he knew, was that one minute he was running and the next Teyla and Ronon were gripping him under his arm pits and hauling him up. He'd been dizzy, tripped and seen that mornings breakfast reappear. It still looked the same. His vision had been swimming and at the time he'd considered that maybe it was the rain water in his eyes.

After minutes, which of course seemed like hours, he'd finally lost the battle and he fell to the mud. He'd just sat there, unable to move, breathing in slow pants as the others had tried to get him to his feet.

He'd told them. "Go, leave me."

Mckay had laughed hysterically. Ronon had pulled him up, but was dropping him seconds later when another attack was launched on their position.

Around this time it all got a little fuzzy. He was pretty certain he had told them to go to the gate, ordered them to get reinforcements and then he'd seen the mud coming up to meet him.

He'd been in and out of consciousness, but knew he had been dragged away.

And then, he'd woken up on the floor of this cell. His first realisation was that there were people all around him. His second realisation was that they weren't helping him, they were robbing him. Taking his watch, taking a power bar he had stuffed in his pocket and searching for anything else they could find.

They'd all moved back when he had promptly rolled over and vomited again.

He didn't know how long he had lay there, but after an indeterminate amount of time he had managed to ensconce himself into his corner.

And that's where he was sat at current.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"Shit," the guy opposite repeated loudly.

Sheppard looked over at him and noted how the guy fidgeted nervously. His mental state had obviously deteriorated beyond that of help now.

"Shit," he said again.

"Okay, okay," Sheppard forced out. He raised his hands wearily and straightened out his legs, "I get it. You like to repeat."

"Okay, okay. I get it," the crazy guy said with a big smile plastered on his insane face.

Sheppard groaned and tentatively prodded his nose and then licked his bloody lip, "How long have you been here?" he asked. His voice sounded low and croaky.

"How long have you been here?" the man muttered under his breath and he moved into a crouching position. He was inspecting the mud and dirt which caked his fingers with a fascinated expression.

"I hope to _god_, I don't end up like you," Sheppard whispered to himself.

The darkness of the cell made it difficult to determine where people were hiding, but he could sense that others were watching him. Listening to him. He was after all, the new guy on the block.

The guy opposite was now pushing a hand down into his trousers.

"Oh god, do you-" Sheppard paused when he saw what he pulled out.

It was his power bar.

"So it was _you_ that stole that."

The guy looked up, ripped the bar open, only to have it snatched out of his grasp seconds later when another much older man came over and pulled it out of his hands.

"Hey," Sheppard said getting to his feet slowly.

He staggered through the dark over to the man, grabbed the bar out of his hands, and then clumsily moved back to his corner. He threw the bar across the cell to the crazy guy, who for a moment, made eye contact and then hungrily inhaled the bar in one.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-"

Sheppard could feel his eye twitch as the guy opposite him continued to repeat his new favourite word over and over again.

When he couldn't stand it any longer he said, "Banana's."

Crazy guy stopped his repetition, considered the word quietly before saying, "Banana's, banana's, banana's-"

Sheppard smiled. Well, he knew it wasn't nice but he was going to get his kicks in here somehow.

After a quick assessment of his injuries he stood up, using the wall for extra support, and decided to have an explore. He'd had a walk around the interconnecting cells a few days ago, but it had been a struggle to stay upright against the waves of dizziness brought on by his bodies rejection of the tranquiliser. Whatever they had given him had knocked him side ways.

He started by walking through to the cell next to his. People were sitting on the floor silently, watching him as he walked by. He noticed that a lot of them had bruises; some had extensive injuries which might eventually kill them. One guy had his hand pressed up against his chest, it was mashed to a pulp and bleeding heavily, but not even the dirty rags he called clothes were staunching the bleed.

Sheppard continued on to a walled corridor which led to more cells, more bleeding figures, more wailing. There were no windows as far as he could tell. The light was from small candles in the recesses of the walls which made the haunted faces flicker eerily as he moved by.

Somebody bumped into him, Sheppard tried to steady the man, but he panicked and ran off towards another cell, mumbling incoherently as he went.

Shaking his head wearily he continued.

He finally reached a dead end, stopped and turned to go back.

Mission failed.

He was shoved roughly against the wall by the guy who had beaten the crap out of him the day before, or maybe it was only hours ago, he didn't really know. In here, wherever he was, there wasn't any sense of time. He wondered morosely who had stolen his watch.

The guy held him against the wall, pinning him at the shoulders and breathing into his face with foul breath, "I hope it's _you_ and me," the guy said cryptically.

Sheppard pushed him back, found the move ineffectual, and sagged against the hard brick, "You and me?" He felt pressure on the cuts on his back and fought to hide a wince.

"Fighting," the guy said with a rasp, "You think you're smart. I can tell."

"Not at all," said Sheppard in reply, "I'm in here aren't I?"

The guy laughed harshly, sending himself into a coughing fit. Spittle flew at Sheppard's face and he wiped it away with the palm of his hand, "Where are we?"

"You _don't_ know?" he laughed again, choking on the force of his words. He turned to a few figures hunched against the wall, their interest piqued by the scrap, "Hey we got ourselves some _fresh_ blood," he said.

Sheppard finally managed to push the guy back and this time he didn't retaliate.

"I get it," said Sheppard, "You're not going to tell me."

"And spoil your fun?" he wiped his mouth and bought away a bloody hand, "You'll find out soon enough."

Sheppard nodded, the guy disappeared into the darkness and he heard him shout at somebody in the distance to get away from his spot.

Sheppard returned to his corner and sat down.

"Banana's, banana's, banana's-"

"Where are we?" asked Sheppard, eyes narrowing as he leant forward. He promptly sat back at the discomfort in his ribs and hissed.

"Where?" Crazy guy muttered. He was silent, eyes probing, hands shifting nervously.

"Lets start with something easy," he enunciated slowly, "I'm John Sheppard. What's your name?"

"_I'm_ John Sheppard," Crazy guy repeated with a manic grin.

"Really? Popular name. Come on."

"John Sheppard."

Sheppard smiled, "I get it," he licked his lips and tried again, "I'm a pilot, let me _guess_, you're a pilot too?"

Crazy guy nodded, "Pilot. Pilot."

"I can fly black hawks, ospreys, F302's, pretty much anything, you?"

"Black-"

Sheppard cut him off before he could reel off the same list. "Are you _really_ crazy?"

Crazy guy laughed and it was a sound so manic and frightening that Sheppard pushed himself back against the wall, "Have to be crazy, crazy." He was rubbing his arms and for the first time Sheppard noticed the thick scarring that ran up them. He remembered his own injuries on his back. They looked like claw marks.

"This place makes you crazy," said Sheppard, more to himself than anyone else.

"Crazy."

"What is this place?"

"I'm Sheppard," the guy repeated, "I'm a pilot."

There was the sound of scraping in the distance, a door opening, and then a horrendous shriek. Sheppard's eyes widened as Crazy guy scrambled to his feet, "Food, food, food," he said jumping up and rubbing his hands together.

Sheppard remained seated as he listened to the others getting up and moving to the 'food'

He closed his eyes, not having the strength nor the inclination to be involved in a fight for grub. After a few minutes of loud, squabbling voices he was prodded in the leg.

He snapped his eyes open to see that crazy guy was holding out a wooden bowl to him and a cup.

Even when he was standing still he wasn't really still. His barefoot was tapping the ground impatiently. Sheppard took the bowl and cup off him, "Thanks," he said inspecting the contents as his new friend sat down opposite him. He was oddly touched at the gesture.

In the cup there was, what he presumed, was water. It was brown.

In the bowl there was something resembling the context and look, ah screw it, and the smell of puke. There was an extra treat on top of it. A dead bug.

He flicked it off with a disgusted look and dipped his finger into the gruel.

Crazy guy was using his hand to scoop it into his mouth, bits were dropping onto the concrete in front of him, his other hand was protectively holding his cup.

Sheppard realised why, because when he looked to where he had put his own cup, somebody had already stolen it. Well, he didn't want to get some nasty disease from that infested water anyway.

He looked at the gloop on his finger and his stomach roiled. He licked it, grimaced, and then swallowed the lump quickly. If he swallowed quickly enough, then it was as if he hadn't eaten it. His stomach was already disagreeing with the foul mix, but he ate a bit more. He needed to keep his strength up. After all when the others came and rescued him he'd need to be able to get out of here quickly. Another roll of his stomach and he pushed a bit more before his lips.

"You want this?" he asked crazy guy.

He put it on the floor in front of him and pushed it over with his foot. Crazy guy regarded him with a strange disturbed look and then placed the bowl in his lap. He seemed to like the food. Maybe he would get used to it. Maybe.

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"It's been two days and scans of the planet are revealing nothing," said Mckay. He paced Elizabeth's office, stopping now and again to raise a finger and to rant, "The storms have closed in, Lorne says they'll have to wait another day to get in there. Its just rain, I thought these military types were supposed to be tough-"

Elizabeth stood up, "A few days _before_ you were saying you didn't want to go off-world because of the rain." Her voice was laced with weariness and worry.

"That was different. This is different. Sheppard's been taken by those….things."

"I understand your frustration Rodney," she walked over to the window and looked down at the gate-room, "But if Lorne says it's a no go-"

"You'd let Sheppard wait?" Mckay said at the top of his voice, irritation creeping in.

"No," said Elizabeth turning suddenly, "No," she said the word softer, "but I'm as powerless as you are."

"I'm sorry Elizabeth," he said dropping into the chair next to her desk.

The chair Sheppard usually occupied when he was trying to get her to go eat or bugging her to let him go on a particular mission.

"We're all worried Rodney."

-----------------------

The atmosphere in the cell changed imperceptibly. It was as if the air had become charged with electricity and the usually prone bodies which laced the cells were fuelled to life by fear.

Sheppard squinted up as a figure stood over him, "I have nothing you could possibly take from me. _Unless_ you take my clothes and then I definitely have nothing you want."

On closer inspection he saw that it was one of the things that had grabbed him the other day. Its features were gnarled, razor like teeth glinted in the light and it had large claws. It looked down at him, and then turned to point at another man stood across the room, "You," it said with a hiss, "And-" it turned back to Sheppard, "You."

"You and you what?" questioned Sheppard.

"To come with us."

"To go where?" Sheppard asked from his position on the floor.

The smile was barely visible on its thin lips.

"I'm pretty comfortable _here_," Sheppard said settling back against the wall.

"No, no, no ,no," Crazy guy was jumping up and stepping between Sheppard and the thing, "No," he shouted.

"Hey, hey," Sheppard said standing stiffly, "It's okay, calm down." He looked at the thing with a _look what you did now_ expression.

Crazy guy gripped him by his t-shirt and fixed him with large eyes, "No, no, no, die," he said.

The thing grabbed crazy guy and shoved him to the floor violently.

Sheppard took a step forward, felt a clawed hand grab his wrist and he tried to shake it free. Twisting it only served to get one of the talons embedded in his wrist and droplets of blood fell to the floor. Sheppard was about to make a joke about him needing a manicure when his attention was drawn back to his fallen, newly acquired, friend.

"No, no," crazy guy was muttering. Nobody was helping him and when he turned to look up Sheppard could see that his face was bleeding.

"Its okay," said Sheppard trying to remain calm himself, "Its _okay_."

Before he could speak again he was being pulled out of the room. The other chosen man was screaming to be let go.

"I don't want to die," his voice echoed through the dark cells.

They were being taken somewhere and the other guy knew what to expect.

"Where are we going?" asked Sheppard hunched over as his ribs pulled.

The creature turned to him and in a sibilant tone replied, "To fight for your life."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

As Sheppard was hauled down a system of dark corridors, he chanced a look over his shoulder to the other man being transported with him. He was silent, breathing in slow restrained pants, preparing for something. Sheppard twisted back, "Where are we going?" he asked as they turned a corner suddenly. He nearly tripped and found himself being tugged upwards unceremoniously.

No answer.

"Okay, at _least_ tell me who you are."

He was shoved forward roughly to walk ahead.

"Not the most talkative bunch," he muttered to himself.

After a few minutes he became aware of vibrations under the ground, distorted voices in the distance that echoed towards him in waves and suddenly they were at a large wooden door. It was opened, Sheppard and the other guy were pushed through it and the door was dead bolted behind them.

Sheppard's first awareness was the noise around them and as he looked up overwhelming lights cast silhouettes over them. He turned in a circle, trying to get his bearings after being holed up in the dark for such a long time, and realised that he was in some kind of arena. The walls were high with more of those horrible aliens looking down at them.

"What's going on here?" asked Sheppard.

The other man was rubbing his hands together, eyes focused forwards. There was no way that Sheppard was going to penetrate this mans steely veneer.

"Hey," he said gripping him by his shirt to try and force him out of his trance.

He was about to speak when a booming voice commanded for everyone to be quiet. Sheppard let go of the guy and walked further into the arena, shielding his eyes as he went. He couldn't see the source of the voice, but he was starting to get a clear idea, that it was their leader.

"Welcome my fellow Syth."

"Syth," said Sheppard, "You've got to be kidding me." He was beginning to wonder if these guys had stolen that name from Star Wars when the voice boomed again.

"We have two human specimens of equal match." There was a dramatic pause in which Sheppard turned to his fellow captive. " Let the fight _commence_."

Chanting instantaneously began from the stands and Sheppard turned to the other guy for clarification.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" he shouted over the roar of the crowd.

"We _must_ fight," said the man walking over to him, "I wont go down easily." He sounded hysterical.

"Fight? Each other?" He looked up into the light, "This is ridiculous. I'm not going to fight you."

There was a clatter behind them as weapons were dropped into the arena. Sheppard regarded them with a raised eyebrow. This was beginning to get serious.

The guy ran over to the weapons, having a quick look at each one in turn, and then settled on one he felt most comfortable with. He picked up a large double sided dagger and wielded it menacingly. He was swinging it back and forth, testing its feel and its resistance.

Sheppard put his hands up, "I'm _not_ going to fight!" he said loudly.

The crowd were ignoring him. If anything jeers rose up at the insinuation that there would not be a fight here today.

"Come on, we don't have to do this," he said to the guy coming towards him with the big knife. "This _isn't_ Ancient Rome, we're not gladiators, so just put the big pointy object down on the floor."

He was still advancing on him.

"Dammit!"

Sheppard moved backwards and over to the pile of weapons and quickly picked up a knife equal in size. He wasn't intending to use it but the threat might be enough to convince the other guy to stop moving towards him.

He ducked just in time as the dagger swished over his head with a whooshing noise. From the ground Sheppard swept out his foot and made the guy slam down onto the floor and onto his back. Getting on top of him and pinning him down at the wrists he looked the guy in the eyes, "What is this about?" he said bearing his weight down.

"Entertainment," the guy spat and struggled against him. His knife was pinned down at his side and Sheppard could feel him trying to get it free.

"What's your name?"

"Ethras," the guy said still trying to push him off him.

"Ethras, we _don't_ have to do this."

"_Yes_, we do," Ethras shouted and managed to slam a free hand up and into Sheppard's nose. It didn't crack, but it certainly bled. He fell backwards onto the ground, twisting onto his front and pushing himself up.

Ethras was much stronger than he looked. He still had the knife in his hand and plunged it forwards. Sheppard took a jump back instinctively pulling in his stomach as he went, "Ethras!" he shouted.

"One of us _has_ to die," said Ethras. "Fight!"

"No," shouted Sheppard back.

"Fight you coward," Ethras screamed. He slashed the knife and caught Sheppard across his forearm. The wound began to bleed, seeping through the hole in his uniform and sliding down to his fingertips. He changed the grip on his knife to stop him from dropping it.

While he was distracted Ethras hit him across the face with the butt of the knife and sent him to the ground in a haze of stars. He blinked blood out of his eyes and felt a boot catch him in his side.

"I'm not….going…to kill you," said Sheppard getting up slowly.

"I don't want you to kill me. I just want you to fight. If you don't they'll-"

"I'm not going to fight you son of a bi-"

Ethras was panting hard, his eyes filling with tears, "I don't want to die."

"Then _throw_ down your weapon," said Sheppard hunching over against a wave of pain in his gut, "Throw them down and we won't fight."

Ethras considered the knife in his hand.

"Come on."

"No!"

"Ethras, you drop that knife now or I might change my mind!"

"Why wont you fight?" Ethras shouted. He was moving in a circle around Sheppard.

"Because this is idiotic. They can't make us fight."

Ethras laughed, "I've heard stories."

"Drop your weapon."

Ethras looked torn. He wasn't going to get a fight here, the other man was obviously more qualified in the killing department and maybe the stories were wrong. Maybe they could just not fight. Ethras, after a beat, dropped the knife to the ground.

"Good man."

Sheppard followed.

The cheers from the ground were sounding angry, chanting '_fight'_ and suddenly the leading Syth's voice broke through the noise, "Which one of you refuses to fight?"

"It's the end," said Ethras and he truly sounded like a broken man.

The doors behind them were opening and two Syths were coming towards them.

Sheppard found himself being grabbed by the back of his jacket, Ethras too was being held in place.

"Me," shouted Sheppard holding one hand over his cut arm.

"Humans," the voice sneered, "So full of compassion and obsessed with _morals_."

Sheppard strained to see through the lights which were deliberately cast down to illuminate them.

"Kill him!."

He was expecting death but Sheppard watched in horror as Ethras' neck was twisted to an unnatural angle instead. He fell to the ground limply at his feet.

Sheppard tried to twist out of the strong hold placed on him and was forced down to the ground to stare at Ethras's body. His lifeless eyes were open and unseeing.

"You will fight until you kill somebody or you will fight until you die. You can suffer out here or-" There was a dramatic pause, "-suffer in there."

Sheppard got the message clearly. He would have to start killing innocent men in these sick fights or they would continually murder them in front of his eyes.

Not much of a choice.

His last memory was of looking up just as his head was smashed in.

After that, it was peaceful oblivion.

--------------------------

Sheppard, unsurprisingly, was prodded to consciousness. Before even opening his eyes he choked on the blood that had run down the back of his throat and rolled over to cough in slow painful bursts.

"No, no, no, no-"

He heard the murmurs of crazy guy close to him and realised that it was he who was prodding him and now patting his shoulder.

Sheppard was in pain. His head felt like it was going to explode and the mere thought of motion sent flashing pain down his neck and behind his eyes. His chest felt tight and breathing pulsed life to the aches in his ribs. He coughed again, spat out some blood, and slowly crept an eyelid open one at a time.

"Sheppard," Crazy guy said putting his face in front of his and watching as he came to some kind of awareness.

"Oh god," Sheppard murmured as he flopped onto his back and bought a hand up to his chest. It was burning incessantly and he knew he'd probably cracked a rib.

Crazy guy put a protective hand on his chest, and seemed to be covering him as Sheppard lay there in pain.

Crazy guy's eyes were moving about furtively, glancing back down to Sheppard now and again to make sure that he was still with him.

Another cough, more blood, and Sheppard finally got the message that lying on his back was doing him no favours. He managed to shakily push himself up into a half sitting position and could feel the blood running down his face, slicking his lips and dripping off his chin. He looked down to see the droplets staining his trousers.

Crazy guy reached out to catch the blood and Sheppard pushed his hand away. It wasn't like he could put it back.

"I guess I lost the fight," said Sheppard rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. He saw that his arm wound had been bandaged with some dirty cloth, he noticed the rip on Crazy guys own clothing and deduced he must have put it there. "Did you do this?" he asked, his voice was coming out as a croak.

Crazy guy continued to squat next to him, watching him closely in the dark.

"How long have I been lying here?" he asked.

"How long? Long? Long is a long time."

"Okay," Sheppard patted him on the shoulder and saw the startled look in his eyes at being touched. "Sorry." He withdrew his hand slowly and hunched into the corner.

Crazy guy was fidgeting nervously beside him. It was making his headache worse as he watched the guy but he didn't have the heart to tell him to quit it. After all he had remained at his vigil whilst he had been unconscious.

"Die. The guy died," muttered Crazy guy.

"Yeah," said Sheppard with a nod he instantly regretted. He bought the palms of his hands up and bore them into his closed eyes to try and stop the throb there.

"Die," Crazy guy repeated.

"Yeah those Syth things-" He laughed involuntarily at their name.

At the mentioned of the Syth, Crazy guy started humming loudly, bought his hands up to his ears and started rocking back and forth, "No, Syth, No, no, no-"

"Its okay," said Sheppard hoarsely, "Its okay. Calm down."

Sheppard could see that a few people were stood in the corner watching their interaction with rapt interest.

"What's your name? Really?"

"Sheppard," Crazy guy said.

"No _you_," Sheppard pressed a shaky finger into his chest, "I'm Sheppard, you?"

"His name's Gabe." A voice said out of the darkness.

"Who's there?"

A figure stepped out of the corner. He was tall, his hair long and lank, his face covered in dirt.

"Gabe?" Sheppard said looking at Crazy guy.

"Sheppard."

"I doubt he remembers. He's been here a long time."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Tev," he said moving closer, "I see you just won your first fight."

"I don't feel like I won."

Tev stepped closer to inspect his injuries but Gabe put himself between the two of them.

"Go," he said, "Go, go, go-"

"Okay Gabe, I'm going," said Tev with a shake of his head, "He lost it a while back. I guess the pressure finally got to him."

"I didn't win the fight. I wouldn't fight so they killed my…" he paused feeling sick to his stomach, "they killed my opponent."

Tev laughed, "Yeah. They do that. You'll eventually fight. Until then they'll keep doing that. They know us humans have a tendency to have a bit of a problem with the killing and all. Call it a motivator if you will. You'll learn."

"Do you have a problem with it?"

Tev started to walk away, "Not really. If you don't fight though, it's not going to make you popular in here. Let's just say some people in here take their survival very seriously."

He disappeared into the darkness again and Gabe continued to hover over Sheppard.

"So it's a lose, lose situation." He coughed again as more blood slicked his throat.

Gabe ripped off part of his sleeve and handed it to him to staunch the blood.

"You know, you keep doing that and you won't have any clothes left."

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you for the reviews so far everyone_

----------------------------

Sheppard had been sitting and thinking for an hour. Again, he wasn't sure if it was hours or minutes, it could have even been seconds but time seemed to slow in the cells and his mammoth headache wasn't helping him any.

He was brought out of his daze when Gabe suddenly skittered over and sat himself back in his appointed space. A second later and the big guy who had given him a mean right hook days earlier came stalking over, pulled Gabe to his feet, and pressed him against the wall, his right hand poised to pummel him in the face.

"_Where_ is it?" he said in a raspy voice.

Gabe's eyes were wide and frightened and he was doing his usual and retreating into himself to escape his situation.

Sheppard got up, tripping on his unused legs, and moved over to the two of them, "What's going on?"

"Nothing to do with you," the big guy yelled and he turned his attention back to Gabe and his rambles, "Where _is_ it? I _know_ you took it."

"Look, let him go, alright," said Sheppard. He knew he was making a bad move by aggravating the big guy but he wasn't going to let Gabe get a beating whilst he was there.

Big guy dropped Gabe and gave him a kick in the leg, "I want it back."

"Look-"

Sheppard found himself pinned to the wall and he sighed. Same old, same old.

"You don't need to get involved in this," he looked Sheppard up and down, "You should be keeping a low profile. I hear you wouldn't fight the other day."

Sheppard managed to push him off him and regain his balance. They were stood opposite each other, both breathing hard, both fuelled by an anger which could evolve into physical violence at any moment.

"You have a problem with that?" asked Sheppard trying to draw up to his full height despite his ribs protestation.

"Yeah, I do," said the big guy. He cracked his knuckles, "You better start fighting. If I ever go in that ring with you I want to know I'm not going to be killed unfairly."

"That's a bit of an oxymoron."

Big guy stared at him with frustration etching his features.

"You don't know what oxymoron means? Big word huh? Well you should understand the moron part."

The fist to his stomach made him hunch over but he had managed to tense just in time so the blow wasn't as brutal as it could have been. He straightened up, "I'm _not_ going to fight."

"You want to die in here. These men don't like to know that they are going into an unfair fight. You give them no choice in their survival."

Sheppard was feeling tired and guilty and he didn't have the strength to continue this futile circular argument, "Then I guess you'll have to kill me here."

"Don't tempt me," said the big guy.

There was the sound of a door being unbolted and the familiar screech which hailed food time. Big guy was torn as he looked over to where people were beginning to assemble to get their meals, "This isn't finished. You better watch out."

"My eyes are open and I'm waiting," said Sheppard in response to the cliché, as the guy walked off. He stood for a moment, staring in to the dark space that the big guy had left and then crouched down next to Gabe, "What the hell are you playing at?"

Gabe was still muttering and rubbing where he had been kicked, "Stole," he said shaking his head, "Not stealing."

"Stealing what?" said Sheppard taking a cautious look over his shoulder. Some of the others were getting rowdy, not obviously having gained their fair share of food today.

When he drew his attention back to Gabe, he was fishing into a pocket and he shoved something into Sheppard's hands. Sheppard looked at the object and smiled softly. It was his watch.

"You didn't need to get this back," he said slipping it onto his wrist.

Gabe continued to stare at him but didn't say anything.

"Thanks," said Sheppard.

He moved back into his corner and crossed his legs. The floor was feeling particularly damp and cold today and already it was seeping through his clothes and making him shiver.

"Gabe," he said.

Gabe was looking at his hands, imitating the big guy, and cracking his knuckles. Sheppard waited for a response, "Sheppard," he tried.

Gabe looked up and gave him a manic smile, "Sheppard."

"You need to take care of yourself and stop pissing off people who are much bigger and much stronger than you, you hear me?"

Gabe nodded.

"You understood that?" said Sheppard.

Gabe nodded again.

--------------------------------------

Mckay was running. He'd never run so fast in all of his life and he was self professed in not being athletic, luckily for him he was also self professed in preserving his own life. Somebody gave him a hard shove from behind and he risked a glance to see that it was Lorne, "Keep moving to the gate," he shouted over his gun fire.

Mckay didn't need to be told twice and as he heaved in some air to his burning lungs he thought about how sour this mission had turned out.

They'd come back through the gate, after the weather had cleared up, on foot and had been walking for an hour when they had met up with the less than friendly inhabitants again. He'd managed to kill one of those things, a fact he was very proud of, but more had seeped out of the forest canopy.

Lorne and his men were close behind but it was his responsibility to dial the gate and he'd be damned if he was prevented from doing that. After all, they still hadn't rescued Sheppard.

He saw the DHD up ahead like a beacon of hope and tripped on some uneven ground. Whilst he was on the floor, swearing and moaning, he saw one of the Lt's run passed him, injured and moving stiffly towards the gate. One minute he was up and the next he was falling backwards onto some jutting rocks and lying motionless on the ground.

Mckay scanned the area, could hear that the rest of the team were coming, and scrambled up into his feet to reach the fallen soldier.

"Oh my god," he breathed out when he saw that he was lying at an unnatural angle, "Are you okay?"

"Cant..move," the Lt said. His voice was filled with pain and panic.

"You fell on some rocks, you cant move?" he asked his voice rising a notch with his own panic, "Come on get up."

"I…cant," shouted the Soldier, "I think I've injured my back." He attempted to move but Mckay pressed a hand down onto his chest to steady him, "Okay, okay." He nearly jumped out of his skin when Lorne touched his shoulder.

"What's going on?"

"Lt Walker fell. He can't move. I think we need to get a Doctor out here he might have spinal damage," Mckay said.

"Really?"

"_Really_."

"My men are holding those things off as best they can. A lot of them retreated back to wherever they came from. Our weapons must really do them some damage-" he paused for breath and radioed Ronon, "How's it going?"

"We've taken care of three, the rest have retreated," they heard the emotionless voice reply.

"Okay," said Lorne rubbing the sweat out of his eyes, "Mckay dial the gate. We can get a Doctor through and get him out of here."

"Are we going to be safe?" said Mckay reaching up to the DHD.

"For the moment it looks like the area is secure and we're right next to the gate."

Mckay swallowed reflexively as he slammed his hands down onto the necessary symbols. The gate burst to life and he pinned in his IDC with shaking fingers, "This is Doctor Mckay, we need medical assistance."

---------------------------------

Sheppard looked at his watch and shook his head. The simple things in life were what made it worth living. He knew that he had been sat in the silence for nine minutes and twenty three……no….. twenty four seconds. He pushed his sleeve over it to hide it.

"Hey Gabe," he said.

Gabe was sleeping, but he was sitting bolt upright. It reminded Sheppard of sentry duty back in his military school days. The art of sleeping upright was a valuable one, one he had had to instil here.

A figure sat down next to him and he saw that it was Tev.

"Hello," he said regarding him with narrowed eyes.

Tev passed him a bread roll, "I saw you didn't get any food earlier."

"And you're sharing with me?" Sheppard asked reaching out for the roll.

"I've hoarded enough of this stuff to last and I always get my fair share of food. One way or another." Sheppard noticed Tev's bloodied knuckles and decided not to find out how he got his fair share.

"How long have you been here Tev?" Sheppard asked as he bit into the roll. His stomach grumbled appreciatively.

"Few years I guess," Tev said looking over at Gabe.

"How longs he been here?"

"Longer."

Sheppard broke the roll in half and handed it to Tev, "What is this place? I mean, I _know_ what this place is, but who are these people?"

Tev spoke around a mouthful of bread, "Prisoners mostly." He saw Sheppard's blank expression and continued, "The Syth take in prisoners from other worlds to support their…..entertainment tastes."

"They get sent here?"

"Yeah. Only when they get bored of a few fighters, they have _favourites_ of course, they'll sometimes pick people off the mainland. I'm guessing you were just passing through, you don't strike me as the offending type."

"I've had my moments," said Sheppard massaging his side, "But yeah, I was just passing through."

"Tough," Tev said with a smirk, "You're not in the best of company."

"I can take care of myself."

"Looks that way," said Tev stabbing a finger at Sheppard's bruised cheek. "I guess Marif told you to start fighting or he'd beat on you."

"Marif, big ugly guy?"

Tev laughed.

"Yeah."

"You ought to listen to him."

Sheppard pushed the last piece of bread into his mouth and was about to answer when there was the sound of something hitting the ground. Both he and Tev got up onto their knees and peered around the corner to see a guy lying on the floor. His eyes were open and there was a steady trickle of blood running out of his mouth. Tev sat back first, undisturbed by what he had seen.

"Dead," he said sullenly.

Sheppard sat back.

"Happens a lot in here."

------------------------------------------------

Beckett came through the gate surrounded by soldiers but he wasn't feeling any more safe for them. He had been reassured that he would be in and out in a quick operation, but his stomach was doing the somersaults and his palms were sweating so much that his hold on the spinal board and his medical bag were becoming negligible.

"Carson!" he heard Mckay call out.

"Rodney," Beckett said having a nervous glance around, "Are there any-"

Mckay waved a hand up dismissively, "No, not for a while."

"And no sign of Colonel Sheppard?" he asked as he was guided over to the prone soldier.

"No," Mckay shook his head and averted his gaze. He was trying to use all of his remaining strength to stay focused.

"Nothing?"

"We couldn't even get as far as we did last time," said Mckay.

"Doctor Beckett," said Lorne as he stood up from crouching beside Walker.

"Major Lorne, I believe we've had a wee incident," he said gesturing to Walker with his elbow. "How are you doing son?"

"I cant move my legs or my arms.," Walker said staring straight up.

Beckett made all of the checks, assessed that Walker was cool and clammy and had the beginning symptoms of shock.

"It might just be a spinal shock so no panicking yet," he said to Walker and then looking up at Lorne, "I'll need to log roll him onto the spinal board. That means I'm going to need at least five other people to help me. Two to roll him, two to place the board under him and one to support his neck. I'll put some blocks either side of your head Lt to minimise movement."

"That's most of my men," said Lorne, "We'd be compromising our position."

Beckett closed his eyes briefly and then added, "This is a _serious_ injury Major. The quicker we get this done the quicker he's back on Atlantis," he stood up and lowered his voice, "If this is a fracture of the higher vertebrae, which is what I suspect, this could be fatal or even worse in a soldiers case, he could be paralysed for life."

Lorne looked over to Mckay who had taken to nervous pacing and then reached for his radio, "Lt Simm, I need you to fall back to the gate."

"Sir, all of us?"

"We'll all be heading back through the gate anyway. Just make sure you keep your eyes open."

"Yes Sir."

Lorne's men arrived back quickly, Ronon looked less than happy and Teyla showed immediate concern for the fallen soldier. They managed to position Walker and then commenced with the log roll.

"Okay on my count, One, two-"

They had all just got into their various precarious positions when one of the Soldiers guarding them spoke rapidly.

"Sir, we've got those ugly aliens coming out of the trees, we need to move now."

"Doctor?" said Lorne nervously. He couldn't move, he had the job of holding the Lt's torso rigid and straight.

"We cant hurry this," said Beckett, "Has everybody got a hold."

"Sir!"

"Okay Lt, hold them off," said Lorne.

"Three," said Beckett and they positioned Walker onto the board. "Keep your hands supporting his head," directed Beckett to Teyla as he fixed the blocks in place. "One move and you could cause him more damage than good."

"No pressure," said Ronon as he stood up.

"Okay, done."

"Doctor Mckay, dial up the gate as quickly as-"

"Humanly possible, I know," shouted Mckay pulling his side arm out of his calf holster as he went.

Ronon ran forward and intercepted the first alien as Beckett instructed two of the soldiers to pick up the board.

"Doctor Mckay, we up and running yet?" asked Lorne as he sprayed a rain of bullets forth.

"Nearly," he shouted and started to punch in his IDC, "Come on, come on, come on, come on, Okay!"

"Everyone fall back into the gate," Lorne pressured.

There was a hive of activity, bodies moving haphazardly, shots being fired of simultaneously, hand to hand combat and shouting from every direction, but finally they stumbled through the gate. The wormhole shut down with a deafening whoosh and Lorne, who had tumbled through and landed on his side, got to his feet as Elizabeth ran over to him, "How did it go Major? I presume not well."

"That's an understat-"  
"Where's Beckett?" Mckay suddenly called out. He was moving around in a circle.

"What?" Lorne narrowed his eyes and did a quick head count. "He was right there with us."

"You mean-" Elizabeth covered her mouth.

"We left him behind," said Mckay with a note of horror in his voice.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Beckett opened his eyes slowly, his headache creeping up a notch as a light scorched his retinas, and rolled over onto his side to blink away the vestiges of the immense sluggishness he felt. He narrowed his eyes, again is headache pulsed, when he saw his medical bag lying next to him.

"Oh no," he muttered as he pushed himself up onto his elbow. He looked down at the chains around his wrists and searched the room he was in with a lethargic movement of his head, "Oh _no_," he said again as he sat up.

The memories of his capture came back to him in full Technicolor. He'd just taken a step towards the event horizon when something sharp and painful had been stabbed into the side of his neck. He'd gone down to the ground quickly and had been dragged somewhere. That _somewhere_ was not Atlantis. It was some kind of cell, with sterile walls and he was sitting in the centre of it with his medical bag.

"Strange," he said as he tried to squirm against his restraints. Panic was flooding his body. He wasn't trained for situations like this and he had no idea what to do or how to get himself out of it. Usually, and it was only ever _occasionally_ usually, he would rely on the smarts of Mckay and Sheppard to get him about of whatever awful predicament he managed to land himself in, but this time he knew Mckay had no idea where he was and Sheppard was missing.

Nobody would rescue him.

A door behind him opened with a shrill squeak and he turned to see a large being come into the room. Its face was mangled and gnarled and it had an orthodontist's nightmare for teeth. He didn't miss the long claws it had either and gulped involuntarily.

He watched as the door was shut and then the thing walked around to stand in front of him, its skin stretching around the mouth as it smiled.

"Hello," he said, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. For one fleeting moment he thought he had pulled it off, but he knew his mouth was down turning slowly and the fear was evident in his eyes.

The thing knelt down in front of him, "You are a…healer?" it asked.

Beckett tried not to turn away from its fetid breath but found the compulsion to do so overwhelming. It smelt as if something had died in there.

"A healer?" Beckett swallowed against the bile that rose. He was feeling nauseous and he knew that it had something to do with whatever he had been injected with. He allowed a moment to retreat into his thoughts and wondered whether it would have any long term effects on him.

"Yes."

"I'm a Doctor, yes," he said. His voice was wavering, his hands clenched in his lap, as he nervously glanced around.

The thing reached over and prodded Beckett's medical bag.

"That's my medical bag," he said stating the obvious, "Full of bandages, field dressings, syringes and what not." He swallowed again, pushing down the sickness, "What do you want with me?"

"I want you to….Doctor." The thing stood up, drawing itself up to its full height as it stood over him and making him feel like the smallest person in the world, "Will you co-operate?"

"Do I have a bloody choice?" Beckett asked, hysteria evident in his voice. He reminded himself not to be rude to the much bigger, much scarier thing before him.

"You can be or you can join the others in the cells."

"I'm in a cell now."

"You will be given accommodations here, you will heal those who are injured and for that I _won't_ kill you."

Beckett met his eyes, "Uh, thank you," he said hesitantly.

"The Syth, we do not possess such….skills and our human fighters they………seem to die often."

"Fighters?"

"You will be given an example later on." It smiled.

"You mean you make people fight?" he couldn't mask the disgust on his face. "Humans?"

The Syth started for the door, "You will be shown to your…room."

Beckett was conflicted. He had to help those who were in need of medical attention, he'd never turn them away, but he didn't want to stay here. It seemed like he had little choice. Nobody was going to rescue him for the time being and it was up to him to keep himself alive by whatever means necessary.

The door was slammed shut and he lay back down on the floor.

------------------------

"I want to know exactly what happened out there?" said Elizabeth as she watched Lorne have his hand bandaged by a Doctor who wasn't Beckett. She couldn't keep the anger out of her voice, this mission had been a bad idea from the very start and she was starting to getting tired of loosing her staff.

"He was _right_ behind us," he said, "I don't know what happened out there." He was apologetic and obviously in a lot of discomfort from where his hand had been shredded by a well aimed claw.

"And we have no idea where he was taken?" she said, looking over to where Mckay was sitting up on one of the beds with his head dropped. He was uncharacteristically silent and Elizabeth realised that it was partly due to loosing his two best friends. Though he'd never admit it.

"No ma'am, but if we could take a jumper and scan the planet?"

"Our scans didn't reveal anything the first time, what makes you think the next time will work?" asked Mckay from across the room.

"I don't know. Maybe we missed something?" Lorne said. He was feeling incredibly guilty. He knew he should have been the last one through the gate, he _thought_ he _had_ been the last one through.

"That's why we were on foot." Mckay's voice was full of restrained irritation as he spoke.

"Well, we can't just leave them there. We need to take through a bigger company of men and more fire power-"

Elizabeth held her hands up, "Not until I know more. You can take a Jumper out and scan again but no walking around down there, not unless you find something."

"I'll leave after this," Lorne said indicating to the bandage.

"No, I want you to sleep on this. I want suitable planning before you leave."

"What?" Mckay said, "We can't leave him there. Both of them." He added.

"We don't know where, _where,_ is and Rodney you haven't slept in three days."

"Sleep is overrated."

"Not when it affords you costly mistakes."

"You're blaming me?" he asked hooking a finger at his chest. His weary eyes depicted worry and concern.

"I'm not blaming anyone."

"If you should blame anyone it should be me," said Lorne wincing as the bandage was fixed in place, "I should have stayed behind to make sure he got through."

"We were being attacked," said Mckay as he lay back on the infirmary bed. He wasn't injured but he was dog tired and continuing to talk was just making his head hurt.

"Both of you get some sleep and we'll talk about this tomorrow," said Elizabeth.

Lorne lay back on his own infirmary bed. He had neither the inclination nor the energy to go back to his room. He lay awake and replayed the mission in his mind.

-----------------------------------------

Beckett was half escorted, half manhandled into what would be his new accommodations for the next, hopefully, few days. There was a cot bed in the corner with dirty linen, no window and the walls were stained brown. He dropped his medical bag onto the bed and turned to the Syth that was standing by the door, "Well, this is just…lovely," he said as he tested the mattress, "Nice and hard. Good job I don't have a bad back."

He was met by a blank stare.

"So, when will I get to meet my patients?" he asked opening up his bag to make sure all of his supplies were still intact.

Another blank stare.

"Okay, well, I'll just wait-" The door was slammed shut, "-here then."

----------------------------------

Sheppard was beginning to think that his headache would never cease. It was right behind the eyes, his right eyelid kept twitching and moving his neck made it pulse twice as hard. Yeah, this bitch was going to stick around for a while.

He finished up at the 'urinal' and wandered back through the interconnecting cells where eyes watched him as he moved by. He gave a nod and a few waves as he picked out some of the now familiar faces and sat down next to Gabe.

"You're quiet," he said.

Gabe was picking at a loose thread on his shirt.

"You okay?"

Gabe stopped pulling at the thread and turned to him with dull eyes, "No," he said.

They had only been sat there for a while when he heard the door scrape open and prisoners started to skitter through and into some other cells away from the Syth that was walking in.

Sheppard had grown used to this occurrence and so he didn't move. He was hoping by being inactive he wouldn't get picked out, but the Syth stood over him and pointed a grubby finger at him anyway.

"No, it's okay," said Sheppard looking up through his bruised eye, "You pick somebody else today."

"Come with me."

"I'm not fighting," he said bluntly.

"I don't care," said the Syth and Sheppard stood up in compliance.

"Fine," he said as he started towards the door.

Another man had been selected and as he headed towards the door he heard Marif shout out to him, "You better fight this time!"

---------------------------------

Beckett had busied himself by checking his supplies, he had paced his room for a while and mentally calculated the time it would have taken for the others to send a rescue team. After maybe an hour he was moved out of his room.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he walked.

They negotiated some more dirty corridors and emerged out into a large arena.

The arena itself was impressive and large and as he walked over to one of the seats at the front he looked over the edge and down into the pit. He noticed that there were a lot of stains on the floor and he knew instantly that they were blood. He was forced to sit and he did so obligingly. He didn't know what to expect, but in his heart he knew it wouldn't be pleasant.

The crowds of other Syth were rowdy, some beside him slammed into his side as they viciously called out into the arena as the doors slid open below.

"I don't think I can watch this," he said looking up at his escorts, "I cant watch this."

"You will."

Beckett reached out for the edge and leant against it, "I'll close my bloody eyes," he muttered.

A clawed hand gripped him by his chin, squeezing just hard enough for the claws to dig into his skin, and said, "Watch."

Beckett sadly looked out to the arena as two figures emerged from the darkness and blinked several times to make sure he had seen right.

One of the hunched figures, who moved slowly as if they were in some pain, was Colonel Sheppard.

---------------------

Ronon gave the punch bag a right hook and followed up with a swift kick to its imaginary torso. Imaginary alien clawed, mangled faced torso.

He was angry and with every blow it increased in weight and accuracy. He was sweating profusely as he kicked up at the bag again, eventually wrenching it out of its hold on the wall and spinning to the ground with a loud bang. He sighed and walked over to retrieve the broken equipment.

"Trying to relieve some..stress?"

He heard the voice behind him and didn't need to turn to face them to know who it was.

"Letting off some steam as Sheppard puts it." He picked up the punch bag and set it onto the window seat next to him.

"I am sure we will find them," Teyla said as she walked over to him.

Ronon held up his knuckles and inspected the blood on them.

"You should go to the infirmary."

"They're fine and I don't like that other Doctor."

"Doctor Jenner is a good and talented man."

"He's too quiet."

There was a comfortable silence between them as they stood in the centre of the gym.

"Colonel Sheppard is very resilient, I am _sure_ he is fine."

"And Doctor Beckett? Doesn't strike me as the resilient type," he said, his voice echoing in the small room.

"We _will_ find them." She was at a loss for what else to say. She had to believe that they would recover them well and uninjured.

"If those creatures have got them, I don't hold out much hope," he moved over to where he had placed some of his sticks and held one out to Teyla, "Spar?"

She nodded. "Anger is perhaps not the best-" He swung out at her before she could continue and defended herself.

"Anger is good." He smiled.

"Ronon, you're not thinking of doing anything…..stupid are you?" she asked as she stepped forward and lashed out towards his hip. He blocked her in a smooth movement.

"Like?"

"You seem-"

"Angry?" he repeated as he bought the stick down. Again, she blocked in one graceful move, "I'm just not good with sitting around and not doing anything."

"We are going off-world tomorrow."

"I know," he said as he stopped. He breathed in heavily and walked over to her, "But I want to do something now."

------------------

Weapons were dropped into the arena and both men grabbed their respective knives. Sheppard just hoped his P90 wasn't dropped into the arena anytime soon as he wouldn't stand a chance.

The guy he was fighting had a stiff gait, his arm was pressed firmly to his side and he looked pale in the harsh light. It didn't stop him from making the first move and Sheppard jumped back to avoid being diced in half.

He wasn't going to kill this guy but he also wasn't going to allow himself to be killed. It was such a shitty dilemma that just thinking about it made him want to shout.

They were circling one another, both testing the other as they moved.

"I hear you won't fight," the guy said to him in the raspiest of voices. One dosed in pain and laced with a forced control.

Sheppard moved closer to him so that his words could be heard over the crowd, "I won't kill you."  
"You would let _them_ kill me?" the guy asked as he made a show of swinging out his arm towards Sheppard.

Sheppard ducked the appendage, sank to his knees and then looked up at the old guy, "I…would rather no-one died," he said and realised just how pathetic that statement sounded.

Was it really any better that the Syth killed his opponents?

Just because his hand wasn't the one responsible for their death did that mean he really wasn't culpable?

Of course he was.

Sheppard felt the whoosh of air as the knife was slashed out at him and before he could react the old guy was on top of him, pinning him to the ground, "Kill me," the old guy said.

"What?" Sheppard noticed that the guy wasn't piercing him with the knife that he had poised over him and he kicked up his legs and rolled the guy over and in turn pinned him down, "What are you saying?"

"I _want_ to die, kill me," the guy said.

Sheppard was searching his eyes. Trying to deduce whether he was serious.

He was sure a lot of the men wanted to die in here, but they could still get free. Somehow.

Sheppard could hear the chanting, the confusing lights were over head and his brain was in turmoil.

"I'm dying anyway," the man said.

Sheppard went to roll off him but the sharp voice stilled him, "_Stay_ where you are."

"What are you talking about?"

"I do not want to die at the hands of the Syth, you hear me? I wont give them the satisfaction and if you're not going to fight then I want it to be you who kills me. Right now, before they can."

Sheppard went to get up and the old guy elbowed him in the face. He felt the blood trickle out of his nose and watched as a droplet fell onto the guy's chest.

"Getting me angry wont work."

"It should. You're a coward not fighting. So don't be a coward now."

Sheppard knew that explaining to him that he wasn't fighting because of morals and ethics was futile. He had killed hundreds over the years, including the rather impressive Genii body count, and telling him that wouldn't impact this situation either.

Another blow to his side and Sheppard gritted his teeth against the ambush of pain.

"Listen to me. I am dying."

Sheppard couldn't process what was happening. The guy took the knife that was in his hands and rotated it so that the blade was above his own heart, "Kill me."

"I-" Sheppard tried to keep his weight back and remove the knife.

"Look," the guy said and Sheppard moved back enough so that he could lift up his shirt. What he saw made him want to gag. His stomach was black, some of the skin was being eaten away and the smell was repulsive. He was in the advanced stages of septicaemia and Sheppard knew from his own field training that the outcome was less than 50 per cent survival rate. Especially in the cells where they had no access to medical assistance. He would die a horribly painful death if he survived this fight and if he was going to die surely he should get his last dying wish.

To die by choice rather than judgment.

"I can't" Sheppard swallowed against the steadily rising bile.

"_Don't_ let them kill me, you do it. And that way, maybe you will escape a beating in the cells."

"I can take care of myself."

"I'm sure you can. Pure stubbornness is making you not fight. You'd rather die in that cell?

Sheppard swallowed, his eyes drawn down to the foul gangrene below him.

"I've watched you, you're different."

Sheppard cringed involuntarily against the wound he was staring at.

"I want to die here and now and not by them, so damn well do it!"

Another fist to his face and he was forced back to reality, "Do it!" The man practically screamed. Tears were running down his face and when Sheppard looked into his eyes he saw sheer determination and desperation.

Sheppard tried to move, but his legs were kicked from under him and before he could stop himself, weight differential shifted, he fell down onto the older man. The knife sliced clean through his shirt and pierced the mans heart. He gasped, squirmed under him and then after one last death throw was still.

------------

Beckett stood up from his seat, "Oh my-!"

He couldn't believe what he had just seen.

Sheppard had killed that man right in front of his eyes.

------------

Sheppard let go off the knife that was firmly imbedded in the guys chest and shakily pushed himself onto the ground beside him. Before he knew it, he vomited the contents of his stomach. He wasn't finished with just one heave and the consecutive lurch made his stomach hurt and his eyes water.

He'd bought himself some time, but at what price?

He was lifted up from the ground still puking and dragged from the arena to the chorus of raucous cheers.

_TBC_

_Arena scenes are hard to write!_

_I hope that was clear. I had a hard time trying to convey Sheps feelings there and the guy who desperately wanted to die by choice. He didn't want to be killed by the Syth and give them the satisfaction of killing him, he didn't want to survive and die painfully so the next best thing was to have Shep kill him first and maybe help him out in the process._


	7. Chapter 7

Beckett's senses were assaulted as he entered the cells swathed in darkness. There was the smell of sweat, urine and the all too familiar metallic tang of blood to the air. Beckett clasped a hand over his mouth as he surveyed the bodies lying on the ground, some poor souls were wailing in pain, others had ceased their moans and settled for quiet suffering. In a word, it was inhumane. He felt sick to his stomach. In his time as a Doctor he had seen some pretty horrific injuries, especially since venturing into the Pegasus Galaxy, but never had he seen people left to rot and die in this manner.

The door was slammed behind him as he was informed that he would be collected within the hour. Beckett stood with his medical bag over his shoulder, one hand pressed against his chest, the other fidgeting nervously with the strap on his bag. He didn't know where to start.

He walked through the cells, past some people who were obviously dead, and others who stared up at him and whimpered at his unfamiliar face. There were some who stepped up closely to him to inspect him and then moved off into the dark crevasses around him.

He poked his head around one cell and looked down to see a familiar figure up against the wall. His usually spiked hair was lifeless, his skin was sallow and his face was a mottled collection of bruises. He barely managed to discern the face through the swelling. As he knelt down next to him he noted the vomit drying on his ripped tactical vest and he set his bag down. He wasn't moving.

He reached out with a trembling hand and then felt himself being slammed to the floor and being pinned by the shoulder. A guy was muttering inanely and holding him in place whilst saying, "Leave, no. no, no, Sheppard no."

"I'm trying to help him," he said into the floor.

He was roughly shoved and was struck across the cheek, "No, no, no."

"Gabe, it's okay," The raspy voice said over his head. It was a lethargic voice, strained, and laced with pain.

The depression on his shoulder stopped and he was able to get back up onto his knees. Sheppard was staring over his shoulder, not having noticed it was him, at the crazy guy who had now retreated against the wall. Gabe was watching him as he turned to Sheppard.

As Sheppard's eyes drifted over to him his eyebrows rose slowly and there was a moment of recognition in which the pained look changed into one of relief, "Beckett?"

"Aye it's me."

Sheppard sat up, sparing a moment to look down at his filthy clothes, and reached out to him with a bruised hand, "What are you doing here?"

Beckett pulled his bag closer to him and opened it up, "I was caught by those things," he said sadly, "Another fouled up mission."

"Caught," Sheppard rubbed a hand against his face, trying to remove the weariness which resided there and cursed, "That was a big mistake."

"Aye, but I'm being forced to treat the wounded down here so that you can all be sent out to fight nice and fresh." His face conveyed an underlying pain that Sheppard didn't fail to miss.

"You won't be fighting? Oh, thank god."

"While I appreciate the sentiment Colonel, I'm a guest up on the next level, I'm not so sure if I got the better trade off."

"Trust me Beckett, you got the better trade off. This place is….brutal." He twisted against some pain in his stomach and sat up straight.

Beckett began to clean up his wounds on his face as he spoke, "I witnessed one of the fights." Their eyes met briefly and Sheppard curled into himself.

Beckett stopped swabbing the cut on his cheek, "You killed that man."

Sheppard coughed into his fist trying to hide the gag which lay behind it and looked away, "I…he was dying Beckett." He paused, licked his lips, and then tried to get the words out, "He was septic."

"Where?" Beckett asked as he gently prodded Sheppard's side to assess if he had more injuries.

"His stomach," said Sheppard feeling as though he was going to dry heave, "It was black and-" He winced when Beckett pressed on his cracked rib.

Beckett patted his shoulder, "That would have been incredibly painful for him. In the long run…he would have probably died here."

Sheppard met his eyes again, "Thank you."

"You have some tenderness in your ribs. Cracked?" he sat back onto his heels, "If I could x-ray you I would know what I was dealing with but under the circumstances just try not to-"

"Get hit in the stomach," Sheppard laughed hoarsely, "That isn't going to happen in here."

Beckett worked silently as he applied a butterfly stitch just above his eyebrow, "Have you had to fight before that one?"

Sheppard nodded, "Yeah. I wouldn't fight so they killed the guy in front of me out of spite. If I fight I end up killing, if I don't they get killed anyway because those sick bastards want to encourage you to fight and don't want to kill you and waste a perfectly healthy specimen and.." he coughed into his fist roughly, "Here's the clincher, if I continue _not_ to fight…they will more than likely kill me in here." He groaned and laid his head back against the wall, "Promise me Beckett, if you get the chance to get out of here, you take it. Don't try and help me."

Beckett swallowed the hard lump in his throat and was about to speak when Sheppard kicked his foot out passed him at one of the prisoners. He'd been trying to steal Beckett's bag. The guy ran off back to a corner in the darkness and Sheppard returned his attention to Beckett, "Don't let that out of your sight."

Beckett examined Sheppard's face briefly before speaking, "Colonel, what are you going to do?"

"I might have to start fighting fair," he said in a voice which didn't hide the hurt behind it. Sheppard was obviously suffering emotionally from the difficult choices he had to make and Beckett didn't want to aggravate the situation further so he just said, "Do what you have to do in here."

Sheppard looked down at his vest again, "I must look a sight."

"You've looked better."

"Beckett, you have to be my eyes. I want you to gather as much Intel as you can whilst you're here, layout, where they store the weapons, that kind of thing."

"I don't know if I can. They keep a close eye on me."

Sheppard readjusted his sitting position again, "I'm not asking you to go renegade, I'm just asking you to keep your eyes open when you're walking around. It might help at some point."

"You're going to try and escape?"

Sheppard grinned, "Maybe."

"I'll do what I can. Other than the bruises and cuts and the cracked ribs, how are you feeling?"

Sheppard shrugged, "Couldn't tell."

"Have you been sick a lot?"

"The food isn't agreeing with me and neither is my situation but I'll be fine. Just make sure you stay in their good books. I can look after myself down here but I can't protect you." He coughed again, "Damn it. So, no rescue anytime soon?"

"Sorry."

"Doc, you should check the others over."

Beckett nodded numbly and bought a syringe out of his bag.

"What's that?"

"I don't have many supplies in here but I do have some broad spectrum antibiotics to reduce the chances of infection. I want to give you a shot."

"Beckett please, save it for someone who really needs it. Other than the cuts, I'm not dying here. Some people are." He shot a look over his shoulder, "Gabe, you injured anywhere Buddy?"

Gabe was silent and Sheppard got up onto all fours and crawled over to the guy. Beckett noted how Sheppard spoke to the man calmly, keeping a close distance and getting the guys eye contact to convey that he wasn't a threat. After a minute of whispering he turned back to Beckett, "Gabe hasn't got any physical injuries. His are all mental." He pushed himself up to his feet.

"What are you doing? You should sit and rest."

"I'm going to be your shadow whilst you do your rounds," said Sheppard, "No arguments."

Beckett was grateful for the offer and he stood up hefting his bag up onto his shoulder.

"I know where there are a couple of guys who could really use your help."

------------------------------------

Mckay jabbed at the keys in front of him, precision be damned, and strength of his fingers bodging the keys uncared for, he was angry and he was taking it out on the one thing he probably shouldn't be. He looked at the ramble he had just typed and prodded the delete key harder than necessary, "Idiot!" he shouted as he reached for his coffee and downed it in one. It was cold, thick like gravy and it tasted foul but he didn't care.

"The computer or yourself?"

Mckay turned to see Elizabeth stood in his labs doorway. She was leaning tiredly, hugging herself in a way she always did when she was worrying.

"Me," he said as he jumped off his stool and walked over to the coffee pot, "Coffee?"

She nodded and sat down on a stool next to his work station, "You should be sleeping."

"I _should_," he said in agreement passing her a coffee mug.

He hopped back up onto his stool and turned to face her, "Couldn't sleep?" he asked her as he looked over the top of his mug.

"I never sleep when men are missing. Burden of command," she muttered and felt a pang for Sheppard. She remembered him once uttering those words.

"We've screwed up big time." He clasped a hand around his mug and welcomed the burning sensation of his hot coffee, "We should have…planned more."

"Lorne is a competent commander," she uttered before taking a sip of her drink, "You've just been unlucky."

Mckay snorted derisively and then gave her an apologetic look, "When we go out tomorrow I want to find something. I mean it, I'm not coming back unless we have found a god damned clue which points to them." He huffed out loud and sighed equally as harshly, "Beckett. He…he doesn't know how to deal with situations like this."

"Whatever it is."

"He's a Doctor, it should be me. I at least know what to do."

"You're wishing you were in his place. I wish I was in Sheppard's place."

"I just don't understand how they can just disappear. No trails, nothing."

Elizabeth reached up to give Mckay a pat on the back but he shot up off the seat before she could connect.

"What if they're dead?" his eyes opened wide in horror, "No," he corrected himself and shook his head hysterically, "Sheppard wouldn't die. He's stubborn."

"I hope you're right."

-------------------------

Sheppard was pacing behind Beckett as he wrapped a bandage around one of the injured men's hands.

"How is he doing?" asked Sheppard as he glanced back to where Gabe was rocking back and forth.

Beckett finished up and stood slowly, "He'll be okay. Some of the others," he leant in close, "I don't think they'll make it through the night."

Beckett expected some kind of reaction out of Sheppard when he revealed that, but Sheppard was emotionless. He figured he had already seen a lot of that in here.

When Sheppard continued to move in a highly agitated way Beckett grabbed him by his arm to still him. Sheppard wrenched his arm back and gritted his teeth.

Beckett shoved the sleeve of his jacket up to see a deep knife wound which was seeping blood, "And when were you going to tell me about this?"  
"Its fine," said Sheppard pulling it against his chest protectively, "Don't worry about me." He continued to move and again Beckett had to still him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pen light and holding Sheppard's chin he shone it into his eyes. Shepard moved back, rubbing his eyes, "Hey."

"You're looking a bit spaced out. Are you sure you didn't hit your head and-"

"Beckett _please_," Sheppard practically begged, "I'm okay. I'm holding up and I will continue to hold up until the others come and rescue us."

"You could have an infection. You're eyes are glassy, you've been vomiting and-" he reached up and touched Sheppard's head, "You're baking hot."

"There's no air circulation in here. It's hot." Sheppard wrapped both arms around his middle and watched as the door opened and a Syth came in.

"Healer." It commanded.

"Doctor," Beckett snapped angrily and he walked over to the thing.

Two more Syth entered and one grabbed Sheppard by his shoulder and started to draw him towards the door.

"Where are you taking him?" Beckett demanded even though he wasn't in a position to do so.

His escort looked down at him and said, "It is time for him to fight again."

"It's okay Beckett." Sheppard said tiredly.

"He can't fight again. He's sick, he needs time to rest." Said Beckett, "That's why you bought me here to heal."

"We bought you here to _fight_. You had a better use. We could always change our mind."

Sheppard walked passed him and gave him a pat on the shoulder, "Don't worry."

Sheppard was dragged out into the hallway and he saw another Syth up ahead with somebody who was leaning up against the wall.

"That my opponent?" he asked. He hadn't seen anyone else be taken from the cells.

"We just picked him up on the planet," said the Syth.

Sheppard narrowed his eyes as he walked down the halls and slowly the identity of the thing started to become clear.

"Finally, somebody I don't have a problem killing."

It was a wraith.

-----------------------------

Ronon walked with purpose as he entered the gate room and pulled out his gun to point it at the gate technician, "Dial me the world where the others are missing."

The gate tech looked up at him with a mixture of apprehension and confusion, "Did Doctor Weir authorise it?"

Ronon shook his head, "I'm authorising it. Now."

"I cant-" Ronon put the gun up to his head and could sense movement around him. Others were scrambling away, some were calling for Weir and some of the Soldiers had the weapons out and pointed at him.

He remained locked in position for what seemed like an eternity before Elizabeth and Mckay came running into the gate room.

"Ronon, what are you doing?" Elizabeth said as she walked over to him. She ignored the stares of personnel.

"I'm leaving," he said without turning to her, "I'm going to find Sheppard and Beckett."

"You can't hope to defeat those things with one gun," she said.

"Elizabeth's right, you'd be going to your death." Mckay supplied.

"I'm not going to fight." Ronon finally turned to her.

"You're going to get yourself caught," said Mckay with an aghast look.

Ronon smiled. The little guy understood.

"Ronon."

"I'm not bound by your military," said Ronon carefully, his deep voice rumbling over them, "I _want_ to leave, you let me go."

"Wait," said Mckay. He turned to Elizabeth, "This…could work."

"Are you both insane?"

"No," said Ronon.

"I could give him a..a…a tracking device. He could go in and then we can locate where he's taken in the Jumper." Mckay's eyes were lighting up even as he spoke.

"If he's even taken to the same place as them _and_ if he's not killed on sight," Elizabeth said. She knew that Ronon wasn't technically a member of the expedition but it still didn't mean she wasn't concerned for his safety.

"That could work," said Ronon lowering his weapon.

_TBC_


	8. Chapter 8

Beckett had watched Sheppard leave to go to his fight and had then been roughly escorted back to his room. He'd asked whether or not he would be-able to tend to Sheppard's wounds, careful not to use his name, after the fight and he had bluntly been informed that it would have to wait until the morning.

He had been provided with a foul looking meal and then the door had been locked.

He was at current sitting on his hard mattress and poking at the food before him with a look of disgust plastered onto his weary face. It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

------------------------------------

Sheppard was hit full on in the chest and he sailed backwards and struck the side of the arena with a loud thud. Pain ricocheted down into his limbs and he dropped the large hunting knife he had been wielding. He got up slowly, avoided the hand which came down towards him, and lunged out with his foot. It connected solidly with the wraiths leg but it didn't knock him down.

He was pulled up by the front of his vest and thrown again. He couldn't cushion his fall and landed on his chin. He saw stars as he brought his head up and could feel blood run down his neck.

He rolled over, scrambled on his hands and knees until he was at a distance where he could get back up to his feet. He mentally shook himself and waited for another attack.

This fight had been going on for a long time, he was exhausted and the wraith was showing no signs of slowing in its attacks.

He caught the wraiths wrist and twisted it, trying to make a satisfying crack, but the wraith just picked him up as if he weighed nothing and tossed him across the arena again.

"This…is getting old," Sheppard groaned as he moved stiffly to get up. He planted his hand down on the floor to push himself up and realised that the move was ineffectual and he crumpled back down into the dirt. His shoulder had been dislocated clean from its socket and his arm was hanging limply.

The wraith lunged down at him and he tried a new tact, lying back he thrust his legs up and caught the wraith squarely in the chest. It stumbled backwards and Sheppard clawed himself up into a standing position, holding his arm close to his chest to alleviate some of the pain he was feeling.

He ran back over to where he had dropped his knife, turned quickly to avoid a blow, and sank it into the wraiths back. The wraith reached behind and pulled it out, examining the black blood on the knife and then throwing it to the ground.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Sheppard as he heaved in a breath to stave off his greying vision.

He was hit in the face and it rocked his head backwards. He went down and couldn't get back up. His adrenaline was wearing thin and his head was aching to the degree that it made thinking difficult. He reached out with his good hand and found it clasping around something familiar. He bought it up to his face and found himself smiling. It was his 9mil.

He pushed himself up with his last store of energy and fired off consecutive shots until the wraith went down to the ground, then getting up onto his knees he fired off the remainder of the clip.

The wraith was still, but he knew it took a lot more to keep these things down. He was hesitant as he approached and he realised quickly that he should have been more careful because the wraith sat up unaffected and then pinned him down, ripping open his vest and exposing his battered chest.

He rolled over as the hand which was going to suck the life out of him hit the dirt and moved in painful gasps to the edge of the arena. He sat, sucking in deep breaths of air, as the wraith got up onto his feet.

"Okay," said Sheppard using the wall to pull himself up. He ran forward and slammed into the wraith, knocking it down again. His wrist was seized and pulled back on itself. The howl of pain that escaped his lips silenced the arena for a moment and then resumed in a cacophony of cheers.

"That's it!" shouted Sheppard as he slammed his one good hand up into the wraith face. He felt the satisfying crunch of cartilage and while the wraith was incapacitated he retrieved a long spear type weapon and was trying to get it into position when the wraith knocked him onto his back. He only just managed to hold the spear up vertical as the Wraith jumped onto him and it slid down the shaft of the spear and lay on top of Sheppard dead.

Sheppard couldn't push it off, he was too weak and too tired and he hated himself for having to engage in this fight.

The next thing he knew the wraith was being pulled off him and he was being pulled up to his feet by his bad arm. It was too much and the pain forced him into black submission.

---------------------

Beckett laid his hand on Sheppard's shoulder as Gabe hovered close by. He had his hand protectively over Beckett's medical bag as Beckett tried to coax Sheppard out of unconsciousness. He was sick with worry. He hadn't been able to come down to the cells until the morning and he had lain awake all night wondering if Sheppard had _even_ survived the fight. He was relived to see him lying in the corner of the filthy cell but his lack of response was now starting to concern him.

"Colonel," he said rocking him lightly.

"Mmm," Sheppard groaned and shifted his head away from him but didn't wake.

"Come on Colonel, I need you to open your eyes so I can assess the damage and make you feel more comfortable."

"G' way," he mumbled bringing up a hand to swat him away. He wasn't in any danger of it leaving a mark as Sheppard was still pretty out of it.

"Colonel," Beckett tapped his cheek and finally Sheppard opened his eyes a crack.

He couldn't make out faces, just shapes over him and it took a few more blinks and the dizziness in his head to abate before he could see who it was.

"Beckett," he said in a voice which spoke volumes about his physical state.

"I need you to tell me what hurts."

"Shoulder," said Sheppard in a drowsy voice, "And wrist."

He closed his eyes and Beckett had to shake him again to get him to be more responsive, "I need you to sit up."

"No," Sheppard said waving his good hand up in the air, "Tired."

"I know," said Beckett.

"Tired, tired, tired," Gabe said in a sing song voice as he watched Sheppard.

Beckett turned to him, "Its okay," he said mimicking Sheppard's earlier treatment of the guy. The last thing he needed right now was Gabe aggravated and violent.

"Colonel, I really need you to sit up."

Sheppard opened his eyes all the way, expecting the harsh light of a penlight, but instead he found that, for once, the darkness of the cells was agreeable. With some help he managed to prop up against the wall. His eyelids were already closing, feeling for all the world, as if they were made of lead.

He could feel Beckett making his examination, prodding and poking and using his fingertips on his skin. He winced when he found the open cut under his chin. "Not so..hard," he managed to articulate through the fuzz.

"I'm sorry," said Beckett, "Bloody senseless fighting."

"Sense-less," Gabe tested the word and repeated it a few more time.

"Gabe, you're giving me a headache," Sheppard said.

"Okay," said Beckett rocking back onto his heels, "It looks like you've dislocated your shoulder and on the same side you've got a badly sprained wrist."

"Gr..t," Sheppard said as he tried to stay conscious. He just wanted to slip back under the surface of his consciousness again to rebuild his strength.

"Colonel, I'm going to give you an injection of morphine and then I'm going to put your shoulder back in and set your wrist. This is going to hurt."

"Mmm," Sheppard groaned.

"John."

At the use of his first name he tried to be more alert, "Yeah?"

"This is going to hurt a lot."

Sheppard nodded, "Just do it," he said.

Beckett started by giving Sheppard an injection of morphine and then started with the process of reduction. Sheppard barely made a noise as he pulled and pushed his shoulder back into its socket being mindful of his wrist injury. He could see that Sheppard had fallen back into sleep again and it was a good thing too.

After setting his wrist in a splint and bandaging it up nice and tight he gave Sheppard another wake up call, "Come on Colonel."

"Iss d'ne," he slurred as he dragged himself back to reality.

"It is," he said closing up his medical bag.

"Not sure I can do this again," he admitted.

Beckett felt his forehead and tutted, "I don't think you can either." He attempted to clean up Sheppard's chin as best he could and remove some of the dried blood, but the raw wound would probably leave a scar.

"Hot," he said exhaling, "Tired."

Beckett allowed him to sleep again and positioned him onto his other side so he would be more comfortable. He turned to Gabe and gripped him either side of his shoulders, "Listen to me."

Gabe's eyes were everywhere but on his and Beckett spoke more forcefully, "Gabe," he said.

Gabe focused on him, his mouth moving silently.

"I need you to check Sheppard every now and again. I need you to wake him to make sure he's okay. Do you understand?"

Silence.

"This is very important. Gabe?"

"Wake, wake," Gabe said moving away from him, "Wake Sheppard."

"Yes, wake Sheppard."

Gabe moved forward to shake Sheppard.

"No, not now. Later."

Gabe's hand hovered over Sheppard's shoulder.

"Later," repeated Beckett slowly.

Gabe nodded, "Later," and dropped his hand to his side.

--------------------------

_TBC_

_Only a short chappie but I wanted to get something up for you guys._

_Oh dear, I've got to stop being so mean to old Shep!_


	9. Chapter 9

"Ronon, are you sure you want to do this?" Elizabeth asked for the third consecutive time.

"I'm doing this," he answered plainly.

"I _hate_ to say this, but, we don't even know if they're still alive."

"Doctor Weir is right. You don't know what you're walking into," said Teyla. She had known ever since her cryptic conversation with Ronon that he had been planning to take action and she was having a hard time condoning it. Ronon had become a good friend to her over the course of his stay in Atlantis and she didn't like to think she would lose him.

"Sheppard was shot with a tranquilizer. If they were going to kill him they wouldn't have sedated him," said Ronon.

Elizabeth conceded that that made sense, but still she wasn't liking this plan one bit.

Before she could protest again Mckay descended the steps down to the gate room and held up a small device, "Okay, here it is," he said standing between the two of them.

When neither one commented on it, he ploughed on, "This will fit snugly in your ear. All you have to do is activate it when you get to where it is that you're taken," he said. He held the device out, pushing it towards Ronon, and stopped short at Ronon's ear.

Ronon plucked it out his fingers and placed it in his ear.

"Surely he should activate it now," said Elizabeth.

"We don't know what type of technology these things possess. They might be able to detect it on him and we cant risk it being taken off him before he finds something."

"That's _if_ he finds something," said Elizabeth, "I'm not happy about this."

"Neither am I," agreed Teyla fixing Ronon with a stare.

"It's true. You _could_ be going there to your death," said Mckay, "Are you sure you want to do this?"  
Ronon shared a look with Elizabeth and raised his eyebrows.

"He's doing this," she said.

"Okay, well, good luck," said Mckay.

"Dial up the address," said Elizabeth.

"I'll get to the Jumper bay and we'll follow him through," said Mckay, "Once he starts transmitting we'll be able to calibrate his position."

"I'm coming with you," said Teyla.

"Rodney, are you sure this device works?" asked Elizabeth before he could run off.

Mckay snorted derisively, "I made it," he said and offered her a comforting smile before disappearing up the steps.

"Be careful," Elizabeth said as the gate activated.

"I will," said Ronon watching the blue puddle settle.

-----------------------------------

"Wake up, wake up, up, Sheppard up."

The voice continued to speak even though he made a move to show he was awake. He didn't want to move and he figured that waving his hand up in the air was enough to convince Gabe to stop shaking him on his shoulder.

"Up."

Sheppard groaned and rolled over onto his back, "I'm up," he said. His throat was parched and he licked his lips to gather as much saliva as possible to swallow, "I bet Beckett told you to do that." He pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"Up," said Gabe helping him to get settled.

Sheppard's first assessment of the damage to himself was that he ached more than he thought possible. Moving sent spikes of pain through his limbs and back. That wraith had managed to do a real number on him, even though he'd won the fight. He tested the movement in his shoulder by rolling it slightly and found that it didn't hurt as much as he was expecting. He guessed that aside from every other injury he had accumulated it was a small mercy.

A very small mercy.

Sheppard's attention was drawn up into the darkness when he heard the doors slide open and one man was dropped into the room and two others were taken for fighting. They were silent and accepting which led him to believe that, by now, they well and truly knew the score.

Sheppard had a bowl of food pushed into his hands by Gabe and he gratefully accepted it.

"Why are you here Gabe?" he asked as he licked some food off his fingers.

Gabe was distracted by the body on the ground and it took him a moment to turn his attention back to Sheppard, "Killed," he said as lucidly as Sheppard had ever heard him.

"You were a prisoner before this?" Sheppard asked rummaging through the gruel to make sure it was free of bugs.

Gabe nodded and his clarity dispersed just like that and he was back to his rambling.

"If we ever get out of here, I'll take you back to where I come from," said Sheppard as he swallowed a strange lump in his food. He grimaced and continued, "Would you like that?"

Gabe continued his vigil, watching the body on the floor writhing slightly.

"Gabe?"

"Sheppard," said Gabe turning back to him with wide eyes.

"I'll take that as a yes." He worked on extricating a hair from his food and when it broke off in his fingers he dropped the bowl to the ground too repulsed to eat, "You'd like it there. Beckett might even be able to help you out."

"Doctor."

"Yeah the Doctor. He could probably help you sort out your head. We'll get you straight again."

-----------------------------

Beckett had experienced some strange situations since embarking on the Atlantis Expedition, but none compared to the one he was embedded in now. He was in the Syth's equivalent of the commissary. It was a show of good will on their part he figured, but he was none to happy at being allowed into their inner sanctum. It made him feel as though this would be a permanent living arrangement and right now he needed the solitude of his room to remind him that he was a prisoner here and not a bloody inhabitant.

He was sitting at a table, shadowed by two guards who stood over him, and was presented with a foul looking meal. The other Syth's were watching him as they ate, their eyes unmoving from his disgusted face, as he picked up a strange looking utensil and stabbed it into the gloop.

At least he had been able to have a look at other hallways on the way here and was on his way to understanding the layout of the arena.

----------------------------

Ronon stepped through the gate and started walking without dropping his pace. From behind him he heard the whir of the puddle jumper's engines as it came through in stealth. He felt leaves and debris assault his face as it kicked up some wind around him.

"Okay, Ronon, do your thing," he heard Mckay say into his earpiece and he almost smiled. The little man was beginning to grow on him.

He charged forward scanning left and right for any sign of life.

The landscape around him threw up nothing, "I'm heading into the tree line," he stated as he walked.

He stopped by a tree and crouched down to look at some tracks on the ground. If they weren't going to find him, the runner in him would have to find them.

He'd been walking for a full hour with Mckay ranting in his ear before he encountered the first signs of life.

"Have you found anything?" Lorne's voice came over the radio.

Ronon remained quiet, regulating his breathing to hear over his exhalation.

"I'm going in," he said and ripped out his ear piece.

The ugly creatures were beginning to seep out of the woodwork.

He pulled his gun out and waited.

"Come on," he said charging his weapon. He had to at least make it look like he was ready to fight to divert any suspicions they might have.

They approached him cautiously and it was then that he felt something stab the side of his neck . He bought his hand up to see that it was spotted with blood. He figured it was the sedative and he waited for it to take effect.

An indeterminate amount of time passed and he realised that the dose they had given him was too low. He knew his own size and weight and it was going to take a lot more of this stuff to take him down.

After a beat he rolled his eyes and then theatrically feigned passing out onto the ground.

------------------------

Sheppard had watched many of his fellow prisoners disappear off into the arena and each time only one of the pair would return, broken, and silent. He was taken completely off guard when one of the Syth walked over and pointed a gnarled hand at Gabe. He had never really thought about Gabe fighting and how he would react to it.

Sheppard stood up quickly as Gabe pushed himself up against the wall.

"You," the Syth said again and reached out to grab Gabe's wrist.

Sheppard put himself between the two of them, "Look, he can't fight. He's…uh…not well," he said as he supported himself on the wall.

The Syth gave him a look up and down.

"I'll fight."

"No," said Gabe getting up to his feet in an instant, "No, no."

Sheppard pressed his hand against Gabe's chest, "You don't have to do this, I'll fight in your place."

"He will fight," said the Syth.

"No, he wont," Sheppard said turning to him with a steely expression.

"Fight," said Gabe.

"You're _not_ fighting," said Sheppard, "He's not fighting."

The reply came as a fist to his stomach and he bent over to try and recapture his breath. He looked up expecting the Syth to be wielding his fist but he was shocked to see that it was Gabe who had hit him. "Gabe," he said panting hard.

"I will fight," replied Gabe with a serious look.

"You'll get yourself killed."

Gabe reached up and grabbed him by his shoulder, "Beckett said…" his eyes were unmoving from his, "…look after Sheppard."

"You don't need to look after me," he said removing Gabe's hand.

"My time," Gabe said.

Gabe was hauled off and out of the cell, "Gabe," he called out and ran after them.

The door closed in front of him before he could reach it and he knew he'd never see him again.

------------------------

Sheppard had sat back down on the floor opposite the cell door. It wasn't his usual spot and a number of times the others had tried to move him on. He could be stubborn when he wanted to and told them non to subtly to get the hell away from him.

He'd been sat there for a few hours when the door opened and one man stepped through. Sheppard stood and waited but the door was closed and as he looked down at the floor he heard the man being congratulated for winning his fight.

Sheppard strode over to him and before he could control himself he grabbed the guy by the throat and pinned him up against the wall, "You killed him?" he said as the man squirmed against the stronghold.

"I won…yes," the man managed to strangle out through his bruised vocal chords.

"You killed Gabe," said Sheppard his hand tightening further.

"I……. had too," he was fighting for his breath, his face turning an unnatural shade of red and his eyes bulging with the pressure.

Sheppard realised what he was doing. Of course he'd had no choice. He dropped him and he fell to the ground in a heap coughing on the air he was pulling into his lungs. He stood over him for a further minute before walking back into his corner and punching the wall with his good hand. It tore the skin off his knuckles and he sucked at the blood on them as he leant against the wall and dropped his head as he sighed heavily.

Gabe was dead.

He heard the door opening, a body dropping to the ground, and couldn't be bothered to even look. It wasn't going to be Gabe.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his shoulder. He spun around ready for a fight and he couldn't believe who he stood standing before him, "Ronon?"

"Hey." Ronon pulled his hand back and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked giving him a hard shove. He couldn't control the stream of conflicting emotions. He'd just lost one friend, he didn't know if he could stand to lose another.

Ronon grabbed him by his arm, "Hang on," he said and he reached up to his ear to activate the transmitter.

---------------------

"He's done it," Mckay said jumping out of his seat as the screen to his laptop lit up.

"How long before we find them?" asked Lorne as he skilfully flew the Jumper through the skies.

"I just need to calibrate his position and then we can go and rescue them."

----------------

"You still haven't answered me," said Sheppard walking up to him stiffly and throwing a glance over his shoulder.

"I came here to get you out."

"Alone?" Sheppard's eyes narrowed, "You got caught _deliberately_?"

Ronon was silent and it was answer enough.

"I can't believe that you just walked into this on purpose. You have no idea what you just got yourself into."

"Mckay gave me a transmitter. They'll get us out of here," he said moving over to the wall and sitting where Gabe used to sit. Sheppard felt a pang of anger as he erased Gabe's memory by sitting there.

"Sit over here," he said indicating to where he usually sat and he took up Gabe's seat in return, "Elizabeth agreed to this?"

"She wasn't happy about it."

"I bet she wasn't. Ronon, I told you to get reinforcements not…this." He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his bruised face.

"What is this place?" Ronon asked sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him.

"They make you fight each other," said Sheppard throwing him an irritated glance.

"No problem."

Sheppard clenched his jaw, "Have you looked at me? This is all you have to look forward for the next……" he tried to force calm, "_Where_ is Mckay?"

"In a Jumper with Lorne and a team. Once they've found us they'll come and get us out."

"How did you think this was a good idea?"

"We needed to see if you were still alive. Is Doctor Beckett here?"

"Upstairs enjoying his own version of this hell." Sheppard leant his head back against the wall and said, "Thanks by the way."

He door to the cell was opened and slammed shut.

"What is this? A bloody Atlantis reunion?"

Sheppard opened his eyes to see Beckett stood over them with his medical bag.

"Apparently," said Sheppard. He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. He couldn't shake the vestiges of his anger, nor the memory of Gabe's departure.

"Hi Doc," said Ronon with a wave of his hand.

"Ronon, what are you doing here?" Beckett asked putting his hands on his hips as if he were lecturing a small child.

"Getting you out of here."

"Excuse me for being rude, but it doesn't look that way," said Beckett.

"He went against my orders," said Sheppard. Beckett's eyes were drawn to Sheppard and he could see that something was evidently wrong with him. He looked upset and as he crouched down in front of him and checked over his injuries he noticed his bleeding hand.

"How did you do this? Did you fight today?" said Beckett as he checked Sheppard's eye coordination

"Only the wall."

"Well it doesn't look damaged."

Sheppard gave him an apologetic look.

"Mckay will get us out of here. There's a team up there now," said Ronon.

"And what if they still can't get in here," said Beckett, "You'll have to fight."

"I can handle myself."

Beckett and Sheppard shared a look.

"This is a crappy plan," said Sheppard.

Ronon remained silent.

"You're injuries are healing better than expected but I should imagine you're still in some pain."

"Barely feel it now."

Beckett moved his arm on his damaged side and Sheppard visibly paled, "Looks that way."

"Okay what I mean is…the pains all over so I don't feel it."

"How does your wrist feel?"

"Bruised but I can still move it," said Sheppard meeting Ronon's eyes as he spoke, "You discovered anything on your rounds?"

"I've got a vague layout but not enough right now. They're letting me walk around a bit more up there."

"Just see what you can learn and fill me in."

Sheppard watched Beckett as he turned and scanned the area as if looking for something, "Where's your little friend?"

Sheppard shifted his position on the floor and didn't answer but Beckett knew what that meant, "Oh."

"You should do your rounds Doc. Guy in the back corner is bleeding pretty badly and there's a guy with a bruised larynx you might want to look at."

"Care to explain?"

"He killed Gabe, I got a bit angry."

Beckett patted him on his shoulder and stood up. "I'll see what I can do."

------------------------------------

"How are we doing with his position?" asked Lorne as he moved the Jumper over the trees.

"He's down _there_," said Rodney pointing to the HUD screen that Lorne brought up.

"I don't see anything down there," said Teyla as she leant at the forward portal.

"Its all trees we can't land." Lorne informed them.

"I can't see anything," said Mckay feeling increasingly exasperated.

"Could it be underground?"

"It's possible."

"Okay well we're going to have to turn back and inform Doctor Weir of what we've found." said Lorne

"We can't just leave. We have to go down there and do something."

"We'd have to park the Jumper miles form this area which means going in on foot and I'm not going to fail again because of a badly planned mission. We'll go back, get a few more teams and some high spec explosives and storm the area with overwhelming force. They're not going anywhere for a while."

"You hope."

"Doctor Mckay, would you be happier of we go down there now?" asked Lorne.

Mckay clenched his jaw as he thought, "Yes," he said finally.

"And you get caught yourself because we have no back up?"

Mckay was silent.

"I didn't think so. We're heading back."

_TBC_

_Exposition…oh I hate writing exposition. More will be happening in the next chapters as their rescue becomes more imminent._

_More whump too._

_Please review_


	10. Chapter 10

Mckay was shadowing Lorne as he moved through the undergrowth, his portable laptop nestled in his hands, and eyes erratically flicking from the screen to where he was walking. He must have been staring at the screen a little too long at one point because he walked into the back of Lorne and he spun around quickly to give him a long, hard, stare.

"Doctor Mckay, don't you think it would be better if you kept your eyes _forward_," he said as he readjusted his P90 on his vest.

Mckay looked up at him and held a finger up, "He's moving."

"Who? Ronon?" Lorne asked standing beside him to peer at the screen.

"Within the complex," said Mckay pointing at the flickering red dot, "You see here. He's in a large open area."

"He is?" said Lorne looking closer at the screen. It just looked like a bunch of lines and dots to him.

Mckay nodded, "The transmitter I gave him is meant to bounce off of the walls so I can calibrate the size of the place he is in, as and when he goes to a new area."

Lorne looked up at him, "I'm impressed."

"Well, Its just one of my many talents," said Mckay.

"How much of this complex have you got laid out?"

"Just from where he was initially taken and the halls leading to this large area here," he typed a few commands on the keyboard.

"That would be a good place to lay explosives if we have to," said Lorne as he scanned the area around them. Mckay noticed his roaming eyes and his fingers tensing on his weapon.

"What?" said Mckay wrestling a hand down to his side arm, "Are you sensing something?" He started to scan the tree line too.

Lorne placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "No, I'm not _sensing_ anything. What am I, superman?"

"Actually," said Mckay with a straight face, "It was Spiderman who had the senses. You know, spidey sense?"

Lorne continued to stare at him for a moment before saying, "Lets keep moving. Put that away and get your side arm out."

------------------------

Ronon had won his first fight outright. His opponent had been equally as strong as he and he had fought hard. It had taken multiple blows before he had sank to his knees. As he was brought back to the cells he spotted Shepard sitting in his corner. His head was resting on his knees and his arms were wrapped around them tightly. He looked up when he sat down beside him.

"You won then?" he said dryly.

"I did what I had to do."

Sheppard dropped his head back down onto his knees.

"I would have dishonoured him by not fighting him," Ronon explained and he heard Sheppard strangle out a laugh.

Sheppard was tired and his thoughts meandered. Should he be doing that? Should he be fighting fair so as not to dishonour his opponents? He sighed again, the lines of killing were becoming blurred and it was a distinction he had never thought about before. He fought in war and killed and that was acceptable. He fought the wraith; killed numerous, without a second thought and that was fine. He'd murdered Genii soldiers and it had been necessary, but fighting for the sheer sake of fighting seemed wrong. Perhaps he should start thinking about it as a fight for his own survival. Problem was, when it came to his own survival over somebody else's that line also became distorted.

---------------------

Beckett walked down the corridor leading down to the cells and saw that a door was open to his left. As he tried to slow his pace he felt himself being moved on by the Syth that was escorting him. In an act unbeknownst to him, he deliberately dropped his medical case by the door and some of the supplies rolled free.

"Pick those up."

Beckett knelt down and as he retrieved his supplies he gave the room a sideways glance. There were people moving around in there and the room was pretty dark but he could see that it was a weapons storage room.

A strip of gauze had rolled into the room slightly and as he reached for it, his eyes upward, he was wrenched back and made to stand. The Syth retrieved the gauze for him and picked up his medical bag, "Get moving."

As far as he was concerned he had fulfilled an objective for Sheppard and he entered the cells with a bit of a spring in his step. The door was closed behind him and as he gave other prisoners a cursory look to check that there was no one needing his immediate attention, he sought out Sheppard and Ronon.

He found them sitting in the usual place, Sheppard was unmoving from his spot in the corner. His head resting on his knees.

"Is he okay?" he asked Ronon as he came to kneel in front of him.

"I'm fine," he heard Sheppard say into his knees.

"I see you've had a fight," Said Beckett as he examined Ronon. Ronon pushed his hands away from him and said, "So has he," he gestured to Sheppard. Shortly arriving back to the cell Sheppard had been dragged off himself to engage in a bloody fight. He'd returned not so long ago, quiet and contemplative. It would seem he hadn't dishonoured his opponent just like Ronon, but the guilt was effecting him far more.

Beckett moved over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Colonel?"

"I'm okay," he said weakly into the fabric of his trousers.

"Just let me have a look," said Beckett looking back at Ronon. He would need to fix up Ronon's face and enquire as to why he was listing to one side.

Sheppard slowly raised his head and Beckett grimaced. His face was a mask of blood.

"What happened?"

"I fought Marif," he said in a low tone.

Beckett looked into his eyes with a penlight and found his responses slow and listless. He had a gash on his hairline which was bleeding profusely and his one eye was swollen closed.

"I killed him," he stated flatly, "Didn't want to _dishonour_ him," he rested his head back down again.

"Sheppard, stay with me."

Sheppard wouldn't move.

"He's been like ever since he got back." Ronon was holding his side again in pain.

"What happened?"

"He told me he snapped the guy's neck," said Ronon with a shrug, "I think he's guilty about actually fighting for his _own_ survival."

"Come on Sheppard, raise your head."

Sheppard reluctantly raised it but his eyes were glassy and he was obviously having problems staying awake, "Did you hit your head?"

Sheppard laughed in a pained guttural tone.

"Okay, so you hit your head. Any nausea, headache?"

Sheppard went to drop his head again and Beckett had to place his hand under his chin to stop him from dozing, "Sheppard?"

"Headache," he said trying to force himself to stay awake.

"Nausea?"

In answer to that question he suddenly moved over and vomited onto the cold floor. He heaved until there was nothing left in his stomach, Beckett rubbing his back and then repositioning him against the wall, "That answer your question?" he stated and dropped his head back against the wall.

"Certainly does," said Beckett.

"He okay?" asked Ronon moving over to the two of them.

"He'll be better once he gets out of here," said Beckett. He sat down on the floor. He opened his medical bag and started to reach for some gauze. At this rate, his supplies would be depleted soon.

"You found anything yet Doc?" Sheppard asked from behind his closed eyes. He swallowing against still rising bile and Beckett examined his face closely before speaking.

"I've got a better understanding of the layout," he said quietly, "The corridor can go left or right out of here. Right to the arena and left takes you up and around the arena. There's a weapons store halfway down the corridor and then steps which lead up onto the second level. Their living quarters."

"Good," said Ronon, "We can do something with that information."

"The only way out of her is if your dead," said a voice from a dark corner and Sheppard opened his eyes and recognised it.

"Tev."

Tev came out of the dark, looked around shiftily and then knelt down beside them. He regarded the puddle of vomit next to Sheppard with disgust and edged back slightly, "You're talking about escaping aren't you?"

"No," said Ronon.

"Oh come on. I heard you. Schematics of the complex, that's escape talk."

"You shouldn't eavesdrop," said Sheppard.

"Kind of hard in here," said Tev.

"Has anyone ever got out of here?" asked Beckett.

"No," said Tev with a grin, "A few have tried."

"Great," said Beckett.

"And you really think he's going to get out," said Tev pointing at Sheppard, "He looks half dead already."

"I'm _still_ alive," said Sheppard making a move to show he was listening and not passed out.

"All I'm saying is it aint gonna happen," said Tev raising his hands.

Beckett turned to Ronon, "Well it isn't going to happen if you both keep taking beatings. Let me take a look at your side."

Ronon sat back against the wall and lifted his top.

"Looks badly bruised. Any pain when you breath?"

Ronon shook his head, "No."

"Okay, well, I can give you-" He turned back to his medical bag and found it open after he had just closed it. He pulled it close and had a look inside it. Supplies were missing, and so was Tev, "That bloody-" he paused and rubbed his face.

"You want me to get those supplies back?" asked Ronon.

"I'll get them later," he said angrily, "Didn't you see anything?"

Sheppard snapped his eyes open, "What?"

"Never mind."

----------------------

The five teams scouting the planet had got close enough to see a possible entrance to the underground facility but had been pushed back by a sudden and overwhelming attack by the syth's and this time one of them was wielding a familiar P90 at them.

Mckay was running as fast as he could, with Lorne behind him and Teyla up ahead who would stop and fire back sporadically. Mckay was getting sick and tired of running.

"Keep moving," Lorne shouted into his earpiece as he ran.

The other teams were bringing up their six and the sound of gunfire sounded into the darkening skies with an echo.

"What are we going to do now?" Mckay shouted as he near tripped on an outlaying root. Lorne caught his elbow and pushed him on, "We go back to the jumpers and regroup," he stopped, turned and fired, and then ran alongside Mckay again.

"We're never going to get them out," shouted Mckay over the roar of gunfire.

"Pessimism," shouted Lorne, "Is most unbecoming on you." He tripped and fell face down, smacking his head as he went down.

Mckay grabbed him this time by the back of his tac vest and helped him up to his feet.

"Thanks."

They manoeuvred through trees, their attackers becoming less and less as they finally made it back to the waiting jumpers. Once inside it was a mad rush to complete a headcount and to tend to any injuries.

"Show me this large area of open space within the complex," said Lorne.

------------------------

Beckett had been expecting to go back to his room for another night of solace but they had moved down another corridor before hitting his own and he was taken to a familiar room. It was the cell he had ended up in when he had first arrived here.

The leader of the Syth was already in there with him and stood beside him was the character he recognised as Tev.

"What's going on?" he asked looking at Tev rather than the Syth.

"I have been informed that you have been spending more time with two prisoners."

Beckett kept his mouth clamped shut.

"I believe you know them. They are…._friends_?"

Beckett was beginning to feel nervous and he dropped his medical bag to the floor.

"You know, that would be an interesting fight."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Beckett as confidently as he could muster, "The two you speak of were injured. I was just tending to them."

"I know for a fact that you know them."

Beckett clenched his jaw, "What? And you trust him?" he said pointing at Tev, "He's just another prisoner."

Tev looked angry and he stepped forward. The Syth put a hand on his chest to restrain him.

"My informant is usually very reliable."

"Well, he's not in this case. You'd be a bloody fool to believe him."

He was struck across the face in a move that was both quick and fierce. He could taste blood in his mouth as he straightened up and he regarded the Syth with a confused look, "I'm telling you the truth."

"If that's the case then them fighting each other shouldn't be a problem for you."

Beckett was trying to keep calm, trying not to give anything away but he could feel his resolve weakening as he stood there.

"And this time you get to watch."

---------------

Sheppard watched in strange fascination as Ronon finished his bowl of slop in record time. He was using his bread to mop up the last bit of it and was showing it into his mouth when he saw that Sheppard was watching him, "What?" he said through a mouthful of food.

Sheppard blinked and pushed his own bowl of food over to him with his foot, "Nothing. Just can't believe you actually like that stuff."

"You get used to it," he said with a shrug and reached out for Sheppard's unwanted food.

"You think you'll get used to this?" said Sheppard as he stood up slowly, "Because it doesn't look like we're going to get a rescue any time soon."

"They'll come." Ronon continued to eat in silence.

As the doors opened to the cell and two Syth came in, Sheppard pondered on how used he had become to this state of affairs. They'd come in, pick a couple, drag them off, one would return. It was all so normal.

He was, however, not used to the finger being pointed at both he and Ronon.

----------------

Sheppard and Ronon had walked down to the arena in stoic silence. Now they were both stood beneath the lights and were under the glare of their spectators. They turned to one another and shared a blank look.

There was the rumble of collective voices above them, growing and breeding like parasites, until finally, one clear voice spoke above them all.

"You will fight each other or…both die."

"I can live with that," said Ronon plainly.

Sheppard agreed. There was no way that he was going to fight a fellow team member.

"Or…if that is not enough to convince you. Your Doctor Beckett will die instead."

"What?" Sheppard stepped forward and tried to cover his eyes from the light. He could only make out shadows above him and nothing concrete.

"Is Beckett up there?" said Ronon. He too was moving in a circle, trying to pick out shapes above.

"Make your choice and _fight_."

Sheppard felt his forehead crease up, his eyebrows draw together, and he let out a groan. "I was not expecting this," he said holding his side as he moved towards Ronon, "Any plans?"

Ronon hit him across the face and he recoiled backwards. His hand immediately moved up to where his cheek stung and Ronon had the grace to look apologetic.

"What the hell was that for?"

"We're going to have to fight and think," said Ronon moving towards him, "Spar."

Sheppard nodded in understanding. That he could do. They had on a number of occasions sparred in the gym and it was a rhythmic dance of sorts. They would be able to hit each other without it doing any real damage and buy themselves some time.

Sheppard moved his hand up to strike him in the face and Ronon blocked it.

"Just avoid my face area," said Sheppard as he moved in a circle around him, "And my ribs. They're broken…oh and my wrist."

Ronon sighed and swung his leg around to connect with the flesh of his thigh. It would look to all appearances as if that move had hurt when in reality he barely felt it.

"Okay, so do you have a plan?" asked Sheppard as he swept his foot out. It caught Ronon on the back of his heel and he wobbled slightly.

"Can't see a way out," he said and they both turned as weapons were dropped into the arena with a dull thud.

"No," said Sheppard risking a glance over his shoulder. He missed Ronon striking out and got a fist to the chin.

"Ronon."  
"Sorry," he said as he pulled back his hand, "We have people above us, it's only us down here." He paused and Sheppard lunged forward and gave him a light jab to his torso.

"And no rescue," said Sheppard. He was getting frustrated and even just sparring was beginning to wear him out, "Okay, so we have _no_ options."

Ronon nodded and pushed his hand into Sheppard's shoulder to knock him backwards.

Sheppard groaned, hunched over, and said weakly, "And _avoid_ my _previously_ dislocated shoulder."

Ronon moved over to him and helped him straighten up whilst grabbing his uninjured arm, "We can't do this forever."

Sheppard looked thoughtful and wrenched his hand free, "Maybe we could," he sighed and punched Ronon in the face. His blow caught him square on the jaw and he tried to look as apologetic as possible, "We're going to have to do something. I'm not so worried about myself, but I do worry about the Doc. Anything happens to us and he has no chance. We don't-" he ducked Ronon's swinging arm, "-know if our rescue effort will be able to get in."

"We're underground," said Ronon.

"We are?" said Sheppard stopping suddenly and connected with Ronon's elbow.

"I thought you knew."

"I was dragged in here unconscious."

"I wasn't," said Ronon, "But the way in isn't easy."  
"And you thought you would just tell me this now?" He swiped out his leg, connected with Ronon's, and went down to the ground in a tangled heap. Okay, so he had some pent up anger now.

"You never asked," said Ronon.

"It's kind of important," he said getting up to his feet.

"Well I didn't see much. I had to pretend I was out of it, but I know we're underground."

Sheppard looked up at the crowd and then back to Ronon, "We need to grab some weapons and make this look more realistic. Nothing too big," he said as they both ran off in different directions to retrieve a weapon.

They returned to the centre of the arena, Ronon with a small knife and he with a much larger hunting knife, "Okay, so now what?"

Ronon lunged forward with the knife, deliberately missed and then reeled around for a second attempt.

Ronon watched as a strange expression crossed Sheppard's face and the next time he got close enough he gripped him by his clothes and pulled him close.

--------------------

"This is ridiculous," said Beckett from his position beside the leader of the Syth, "They're not going to kill each other."

"Then _you_ will die, "the Syth said without a hint of emotion in his voice.

Beckett didn't know which the better outcome was. One of his friends dying, two of them, or himself.

It was an utterly impossible situation.

He leant forward on the balcony and watched as Sheppard and Ronon moved up close to one another. He could see that Sheppard was saying something, Ronon didn't look pleased, and the next second Ronon was pushing Sheppard away and shouting back.

---------------

"No," said Ronon.

Sheppard sighed resignedly and walked forward with his knife up, "If you don't do it. I will."

"There has to be another way."

"I'm already dead," said Sheppard, "I've got these shooting pains in my gut. I'm bleeding internally. Do it! That's an order. Don't go against another one of my orders dammit!"

------------------

Beckett wished he knew what was going on down there. Sheppard and Ronon seemed to be having a heated argument and they both looked genuinely angry. Beckett knew that Sheppard wasn't happy seeing Ronon in the cell, he had expressed as much, and now had their time in the cell together cemented a downward spiral into violence. It would seem so. Sheppard already had issues with the way Ronon often defied his orders and getting caught deliberately was one way to make him pissed off.

Sheppard moved forward and punched Ronon in the face, hard. He reeled backwards spitting blood and fell to the ground, stunned.

-------------

"I am _ordering_ you Ronon," said Sheppard.

"Hitting me isn't going to make me angry."

"Will you ever listen to an order of mine? Listen to me," Sheppard moved up to him and using the butt of his knife he slammed it into Ronon's chin. A cut appeared, gushing blood, and Ronon swiped it away. He licked at his lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood and smiled, "Sheppard."

"Am I making you angry?" asked Sheppard.

"No," said Ronon and he used his elbow to hit Sheppard across the nose.

Sheppard was looking angrier by the minute, but he was also paling by the minute.

Had his words about having pains been the truth? He'd been awfully quiet in the few days he had been there. He almost seemed to be looking for a way out of this.

Sheppard kicked out a leg into Ronon's gut and he doubled over with pain, "Sheppard."

-----------------

"Stop this fight," said Beckett turning to the leader Syth, "You've proved your point. They _are_ my friends."

"I'm not trying to prove a point. I'm making this fight more enjoyable."

Beckett didn't know what possessed him to lash out but before he could stop himself his fist was clenched and was aimed at the Syths face. It struck hard, bones in his hands cracked, and he retracted it to his chest. He was panting hard when somebody grabbed him from behind and made him look into the ring.

Sheppard and Ronon were fighting. It was a fast match, fists were flying, legs were being kicked and swiped out at one another and both men were looking to be gasping hard.

It was in one split second where the two men stopped to look at one another and then before Beckett could turn away, Ronon moved forward and grabbed Sheppard close.

He watched as Sheppard's eyes went wide in horror and then Ronon stepped backwards. He tossed a bloody knife down to the floor and walked away.

-----------------

Sheppard had felt the impact of the knife and had hardly believed it. The sensation as the blade slid in slowly and retracted was sickening and it made his stomach immediately lurch. He managed to stand for a moment, in which he moved his hand away from the wound and saw blood puddle at the entry wound. His hands were slicked with it and he could feel the blood running down to the waistband of his trousers and collecting there heavily. He managed a strangled groan as his vision started to grey at the edges and he looked over to where Ronon's back was to him. His brain was in sensory overload as he fell forward onto his knees. He was doubled over, watching his blood drip onto the ground below him, and before he could stop himself he went down. He tried to claw away from the darkness but it was a move that proved ineffectual. It had claimed him and it was too late.

----------------------

Sheppard's pain was palpable. Beckett felt the bile pool at the back of his throat and he swallowed to keep it at bay, "No," he said standing straight, "No…. that can't be right." He turned to the leader Syth and felt tears well at his eyes.

What had he just witnessed?

"I guess they _weren't_ friends after all."

----------------

Ronon watched one of the Syth come over to tend to Sheppard's body. He stood, staring down at him with an unflinching gaze and watched as blood spread out from under him.

"He's dead," he said, kicking the Syth's hands away from his body.

The Syth looked up at him with a look of confusion.

"I made sure I did it right," said Ronon. His eyes were drawn down to the bloody knife on the ground.

He did what he had to do to survive.

The Syth grabbed Sheppard's prone body and lifted it up with little effort. He began to walk towards a side door, Sheppard's legs dragging along the floor as he went, his hands moving lifelessly from side to side.

He watched as he disappeared and turned to go back to his cell.

He hadn't dishonoured Sheppard.

_TBC_

_This is not a death fic…………_


	11. Chapter 11

_For Terri (Bookworm4hire) on her birthday._

------------------

Beckett entered the cells and saw Ronon stood in the centre, pacing back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists.

The Syth guards were stood behind him, breathing down his neck, as he approached Ronon, "What did you do?" he said, his voice unskilfully hiding his anger.

Ronon stopped, turned to him slowly, and fixed him with an icy glare, "I did what I had to do to survive," he said.

Beckett looked at the man he thought he knew before him, "You killed him."

Ronon continued to look at him.

"He's dead."

"I know," said Ronon casting his eyes over the two guards.

"You didn't have to do that."

"You would have been killed if we didn't. Sheppard said he wanted to fight."

"You were never equally matched from the start. Sheppard had worse injuries than you and-"

"Exactly," said Ronon with a shrug, "I have a chance to survive in here."

"You've taken away his chance to survive," spat Beckett, his fingernails digging into his palms as he spoke, "I thought I knew you."

Ronon walked over to him and looked down at him with a small smile, "I guess you don't know anything."

Beckett shoved him hard and was surprised when Ronon actually moved under his strength.

Ronon didn't look angry. In fact, his face was a mask of neutrality.

"Take me out of here," said Beckett turning back to the guards.

-----------------

Mckay was sitting in the back of the puddle jumper, his legs propped up on the opposite seat, as he slowly ate a power bar. He'd been watching the screen with a keen interest, seeing the blinking dot move around the complex and back to a semi-large room.

Teyla came to sit beside him and she peered down at the screen, "You've been very quiet," she noted.

"Are you trying to say I'm loud?" Mckay asked with a hint of hurt.

"Well, usually, you have _much_ to say." She offered him a warm smile that displayed she meant no offence.

"I just don't see why we have to stay here for the night. We could go in and get them both out now."

Lorne walked to the back of the jumper and dropped himself down into the seat opposite, "The Jumpers are in stealth. We're safe."

"I'm not talking about that."

"Well, we could storm the place now in the pitch black, or we could wait till morning at first light and actually _see_ what we're doing. If it's an underground facility I should imagine its pretty dark down there. Blowing a hole in it and flooding it with light would be more beneficial to us." He crossed his arms over his chest and laid his head back against the wall, "You should relax."

"I can't relax," muttered Mckay as he screwed up his power bar wrapper into a ball, "We don't know what's going on down there."

"We will get them out tomorrow," said Teyla taking a power bar out of her own vest pocket.

"Do you have another one of those?" Mckay asked eyeing the bar up longingly.

She sighed and passed it to him.

"Well," he said as he ripped the bar open, "You wouldn't want me to have a hypoglycaemic attack now would you?"  
"Wouldn't we?" snarked Lorne.

"Oh, funny, very funny."

------------------

Sheppard was dragged from the arena and as he his legs struck something; he came to a slow consciousness. He didn't move. He didn't have the energy to do so and simply kept his eyes closed until he was dropped down onto a floor hard.

The smell surrounding him assaulted his nose and he had to keep from bringing his stomach contents up as another wave of stench wafted at his nostrils.

Somebody kicked his leg hard, there was a beat and they did it again. Perhaps checking he was really dead.

He heard sounds of movement around him, felt himself being picked up again and was dropped onto something soft and stinking. The door closed and he was left to the dark.

He opened his eyes and realised that there was, thankfully, still some light in the room. A crack from the hall was spilling through and illuminating enough of the room.

His brain was slow to meander back from the darkness he was currently in and it took him a while to assess his situation. His attention was brought down to what he was lying on and even though pain pervaded his every movement and white hot agony lanced his stomach, he managed to roll onto the hard floor.

From his knees he did a circle of the room and saw where he was. There were dead bodies everywhere. He had just been lying on a pile of rotting corpses, left himself, to rot alongside them.

He covered his mouth with a shaking hand and swallowed reflexively against his stomachs first instincts. He took a moment to dry heave against a wave of nausea and when he breathed in, he was forced into a paroxysm of coughing. The smell was unbearable.

He couldn't dwell on it too long. He had work to do.

He worked on sliding his jacket off his aching form and laid it down on the floor next to him, pulling out supplies he had stolen from Beckett as he did so. He had taken them in the hope that he could help Ronon if he arrived back from a fight and Beckett wasn't around to save him. He found it somewhat ironic that he was now going to be using them on himself.

He slowly pulled his t-shirt up and breathed in deeply against the sharp pain that pulsed in his side. The wound was open and bleeding. His ragged flesh slick with his blood and sticky to the touch.

He reached out to go through his supplies. He'd taken some gauze, a syringe, a vile of antibiotics and some stitching equipment. Beckett had been so engaged in going over Ronon's injuries and in turn Ronon had been distracted enough, for him to slip out what he knew to be vital field equipment.

He looked down at his stomach and swallowed. This was going to hurt.

His fingers were shaking as he pierced his flesh with a needle to effectively sew up the wound. He knew there was the possibility that he could have internal bleeding but right now he just needed to stop the bleeding. When he had tied off the last bit he began to unbind his broken ribs. Relieving the pressure hurt more than he would have expected and his breath escaped in low rasps. He was trying to be quiet through all of his first aid but even being quiet could not stop the light headed feeling he was getting. He hoped he didn't pass out before he got a chance to get out of here.

Once his ribs were unbound and the pressure was no longer there to stop that particular pain, he placed some gauze on the stab wound and wrapped the binding around his middle as tight as he could.

He moved onto the antibiotics and gave himself a shot in the arm to help his immune system deal with the sudden injury. Who knows what kind of hideous infections he had picked up just being in that room. He figured, later on the line, he probably would have some kind of infection but right now he wasn't concerned about his life. He was concerned with getting Ronon and Beckett out of this mess, at whatever cost.

He slowly got up to his feet, wavered a bit, and then weaved towards the door. He was just about to head out when something from the darkness caught his eye. He moved forwards cautiously and the familiar face staring back at him, with lifeless eyes, was barely recognisable as being Gabe.

"Gabe," he said moving over to him and shaking his head. His injuries were extensive and had been quite obviously fatal.

He took a moment to be still and silent, reaching his bloodied hands out to close Gabe's eyes.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you," he said into the darkness and he stood up.

He reached for the door handle and was relieved when it clicked out of place.

Nobody needs to lock a room full of dead people after all.

He took in a deep, steadying breath, and then poked his head out into the corridor. It was empty. He slipped out quickly and headed in the direction Beckett said he had seen the weapons store. _That_ would probably be guarded, but he had managed to stash a knife during the fight, so he was going prepared.

Sheppard negotiated the corridors quickly, throwing glances over his shoulder now and again to make sure he wasn't being followed.

He was stooped over and listing to one side, but his side was flaring up, angry at his movement, protesting every breath he took. He felt a mess, but adrenaline was pushing him on at the moment. He would have to deal with the consequences of that when it ran out.

He approached the weapons store with as much stealth as he could muster, pushing himself into a niche when a guard went by oblivious to his presence.

The guard by the weapons store had his back to him and all he had to do was sneak attack him and take him by surprise. Problem was, his hand holding the hunting knife was shaking and he didn't know if he had the strength to pull off such a move.

He hated being sick, and he especially hated being injured to the extent that it effected decisions like this.

He stood still for a further minute, poking his head around to check the guard was still looking away from him, and then slid out and along the wall as slowly as he could.

He was forced to hold his breath so he could both hear the amount of noise he was making and also to stop the guard from hearing him.

His chest was burning, his ribs were grinding, and his stomach felt as though it was on fire.

In one quick, practised, movement he grabbed the guard by his head, slashed the knife across its neck and then dug the knife into its back just to be sure. It crumpled down onto the floor with a dull thud and Sheppard too went down to his knees. Energy spent.

He watched as blood started to coat the ground and with a sigh he moved over to the door, kicked it open with the back of his foot, and proceeded to drag the heavy guard into the weapons store.

He managed to haul him over to a wall and he closed the door and dropped down into the centre of the room.

He just needed to catch his breath before he headed out again.

His vision was swimming as he sat there and he lifted his t-shirt up to see that the bandages were stained with blood.

There was the distinct possibility he really wouldn't make it out of this alive.

_TBC_

_All grammar mistakes are mine….I kinda suck at it, but I'm learning._

_Review please._

_Okay I'm going away for a few days so expect the next update around Tuesday night. RL sucks huh?_


	12. Chapter 12

Sheppard had been sitting in the centre of the weapons store room for a few minutes when he realised he'd been on his way to gradually greying out. He shook his head to wake himself up and slowly got to his feet. He swayed for a moment as he got his vertical bearings and then began to grab some weapons. He found his P90. The magazine had been expended but he discovered his spare amongst some of the archaic knives. He grabbed Ronon's gun, a few smaller daggers and a crossbow which he put over his shoulder.

Loaded up and fuelled by adrenaline again he headed for the door and peered out into the darkened hallway.

He wandered the halls in a state of abstraction, feeling his way along the walls in a bid to keep himself alert and upright. The coarseness of the brick and concrete keeping him grounded to reality as his fingers traced over the various grooves.

He was exhausted, both mentally and physically and all he wanted to do was find a corner and curl up into a ball. In some ways that was the benefit of the cells. You could be still and quiet and nobody would bother you if you looked dead enough. He knew he didn't have much time, which meant Ronon and Beckett didn't have time, so he pushed himself onwards with the stubbornness he knew he was equipt with.

When he reached the cells, he examined the large door and knew he'd have to wait until another unfortunate pair were taken off to fight. He stood before it, feeling vulnerable and exposed, and breathed out as he look up. He hadn't noticed before but the ceiling was a series of wooden beams and there was just enough room, if he could get up there, for him to sit and wait. He managed to get a foothold in a section of crooked wall and hefted himself up into a small space, the weapons cumbersome and unhelpful. When he had got up, energy spent, he sat with his legs outstretched on the beam and his back pressed against the wall. He positioned the weapons in his lap and waited.

---------------------

Beckett had been roughly jerked awake from his hard mattress and manhandled out and down to the lower sections of the complex.

"What's going on?" he asked as he was pushed forward through the halls. He turned to look at the Syth who was aggressively walking behind him, "Hey!"

The Syth continued to press him on.

"Has somebody been injured?" he asked.

He was met by silence and for a minute he listened to their footfalls on the concrete.

"Because I don't have my medical bag."

He arrived at a large wooden door, the bolt was pulled back and he was shoved through roughly. He turned to question his treatment as the door slammed in his face and he turned to look at the place he had often looked down on.

He was in the arena.

---------------------

Lorne skilfully manoeuvred the puddle jumper through the skies as Mckay watched the landscape below move by in a blur.

"I hope their still alive," said Mckay as he watched the Jumper, to his eye, narrowly miss a tall tree.

Lorne shot him an antagonized look, "I told you why we couldn't get them yesterday."

"I know," said Mckay holding up a placating hand, "I'm just saying."

"They _will_ be alive," said Teyla as she walked up to the front of the Jumper.

"We're going to crumble the structure at its centre and fly the jumper in," said Lorne, "In stealth." He said before Mckay could interject.

"Are you sure that is a good idea?" asked Teyla.

Lorne threw her a look over his shoulder, "Well if Mckay's calculations are correct there should be enough room."

"And by all accounts it's a large open area."

"What if Ronon-"

"Ronon is still in the same place as he was before. He won't be affected by the blast and if Sheppard and Beckett are with him they shouldn't either." Lorne said concentrating.

"That's if they are all together," said Mckay.

Lorne nodded, "We only have one go at this."

--------------------------

Sheppard must have drifted off because he was startled awake by a noise below him. It took him a minute to remember where he was and his precarious balance on the beams. His mind was fuzzy and as he sought clarity through the fog in his mind he peered down and over the edge.

There was a guard and he was taking somebody from the cell. What struck Sheppard as unusual was that he was only taking one person and the other guard was beginning to close the door.

Sheppard knew that it was a case of now or never and he moved into a better position and then dropped down on top of him.

They crumpled to the ground in a heap, the crossbow he had positioned in his lap jostling him in the ribs and eliciting a pained groan from him. He reached around for his knife and dug it into the Syth's throat. The gargled squawk that it emitted echoed through the corridor as Sheppard pushed himself off him. The door was still unbolted and he kicked the Syth aside before pulling it fully open.

He stood in the doorway, scanned the confused faces and then said, "Okay, everyone's getting out of here but-"

He didn't have time to finish; he was knocked down to the ground as bodies piled out of the room in a frantic mixture of excitement and panic. They were scrambling in different directions, shouting impatiently, lost in their own thoughts of freedom.

"No," said Sheppard getting up shakily, "We need to stick together."

Somebody stamped on his foot as they went by and he stepped to the side to let them pass.

A few remained in the cells, either too ill or fearing it was a ruse, but of the standing Ronon was there, arms crossed over his chest, "Took your time," he said walking over to him.

"You said you came in here conscious; think you can find a way out of here?"

Ronon nodded and walked past him. He had taken a few strides when he realised that Sheppard wasn't following him.

He heard a pained gasp and then turned to see that Sheppard had slumped down to the ground. He was pale and sweating, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Get up."

"I just need to sit for a minute," he said breathlessly.

Ronon retrieved some of the weapons off him and then pulled up his t-shirt. He took one look at the stained bandages and then grabbed Sheppard by the back of his vest to haul him up to his feet, "You move or you die."

"We had that fight remember," said Sheppard through a grimace.

"You're going to die if you don't keep moving."

Sheppard looked down at the blood on his stomach and he said, "Oh that, yeah." Ronon helped up into a standing position.

"You okay to do this?" Ronon asking as he surreptitiously peered out of the door.

Sheppard heaved in a deep breath, "Let's get out of here."

------------------------------

Lorne positioned the Jumper and started to concentrate on releasing a drone.

Mckay glanced at him nervously, "Don't miss."

"I'll try not to," said Lorne. "Okay I've got the target locked."

There was a moment of strained silence.

"Fire."

----------------

As Beckett was struck in the face by a well aimed fist he bit down on his tongue and tasted metal. He fell onto his back, vision jarred by the blow, and hands reaching out for his knife.

He got up slowly, took one step forward and then felt the ground below him shake.

He and his opponent looked up at the ceiling and watched as it crumbled above them. He dove to the side as concrete slammed to the ground where he had been standing.

-----------------------

Sheppard and Ronon had been running down the gloomy halls when the wall beside them blew out in a rain of debris and hard concrete. Sheppard fell to the ground as a chunk caught him on his temple and Ronon slammed against the wall from the force.

"What the hell was that?" Sheppard called out as he got up to his knees.

Ronon was pushing himself up off the floor and looking at the hole in the wall with narrowed eyes.

They moved to the hole, clearing the dust with their hands as they fought to see through to the arena.

The arena was in chaos. Syth were screaming, there was rubble everywhere and a large crater in the ground.

"Looks like we're getting out of here," said Ronon as he looked up at the caved in ceiling.

Sheppard spotted Beckett lying on the floor, bleeding and injured, his opponent off to the side, dead.

A swirl of dirt picked up and assaulted his face as he knelt down but when he looked up he couldn't see anything.

"What's that?" asked Ronon.

"Sounds familiar," said Sheppard over the hum of increasingly closing engines.

Beckett stirred under his touch and cracked open one eye, "Sheppard?" The confusion which laced his features was apparent and he reached out to touch Sheppard on the shoulder, "You're alive."

Sheppard nodded and helped him to sit, "You okay Doc?"

"Ronon didn't kill you?"

"No," said Sheppard.

"But….I saw him stab you," said Beckett as he struggled to sit up.

Sheppard moved away from a probing hand that went to lift up his t-shirt, "I'm okay." The words were hollow and a blatant lie as he felt the increasing slickness on his skin.

The puddle jumper materialised itself in front of them, just as prisoners streamed out onto the top balcony overlooking the arena. The lights looking down on them ceased and for the first time, Sheppard could look up and see the people above him. The prisoners were fighting the Syth in an extremely vocal and bloody battle.

Sheppard turned his attention back to the Jumper and stood slowly as Lorne and some soldiers appeared from its rear, guns aimed forward.

Mckay ambled out after them, with Teyla at his side, side arm drawn.

"You're alive," Mckay said over the shouting above them.

Sheppard looked at the jumper and then back to Mckay, "You come to rescue us?"

"No, we thought we'd join you here," said Mckay, voice dripping with sarcasm. He looked up at the stalls, "What's going on?"

"Explain later," said Sheppard, "We need to get Beckett onto the Jumper."

Ronon and some of the soldiers each took an arm and a leg and carried him into the jumper.

"You ready to go Sir?" asked Lorne, coming up next to him, and casting his eyes around the room.

A body fell from the stalls and dropped between them. It was Syth and it writhed for a second before being still.

"What is this place?" he asked as he watched the spectacle above.

Sheppard righted himself and pressed his hand firmly against his stomach. He didn't answer the question, finding his mind wandering and listless.

"What about them?" Sheppard asked pointing up at the prisoners.

"We only came here to get you Sir. There wouldn't be room in the Jumper for all of these people."

"We can't just leave them," said Sheppard gripping his side as it flared up. Pulsing and throbbing and reminding him of his need to get it repaired.

"Are you kidding? There must be fifty men up there," said Mckay pointing his weapon in the general direction of the fight above them.

There was a high pitched shriek from above them and another body was thrown down into the arena. It connected with the ground with a sickening thud.

"I'm not leaving if…" Sheppard pitched forward and slipped down to his knees.

Teyla and Mckay were at his side in an instant, preventing him from falling further, "You are not well Colonel. And in no condition to fight. You must get on the Jumper so we can get you back to Atlantis." Teyla looked at Mckay with a concerned expression as Sheppard panted.

"I'm fine," said Sheppard through gritted teeth, "Just give me a minute and I'll be good to go."

Mckay's eyes were drawn down to his exposed midriff. He could see the extent of the wound he was saying was 'fine' and his blood dripping onto the dirt.

"You call _that_ fine?" Mckay said and Lorne's eyes followed his.

"We need to get out of here."  
"Not without getting some of these people out," said Sheppard. He pushed Teyla and Mckay off him to stand. The effort failed and he landed on his front.

"We need to get him out of here," he heard Mckay say over the din in his head. He couldn't move, didn't have the energy to get back up and trying to, was only futile. His arms and legs felt like jelly and his vision was very slowly fading on him.

He was rolled onto his back and he could look up at the hole in the ceiling, the light burning his eyes, and he could hear the raucous noise above him. He could see blood spraying out into the air above him, could hear the garbled screams and groans and the flesh on flesh sound of hand to hand combat.

"Get them out," he said his voice a low rasp.

Mckay's face appeared over his and he looked worried.

He tried to speak again, tried to move, and then the pain in his side reached a new overwhelming pinnacle and he watched as everything faded to black.

_TBC_

_Sorry if this all felt rushed but I had just stabbed Sheppard and realistically he wouldn't have much time so things needed to move quickly so he could live and I know you all appreciate an alive Sheppy._


	13. Chapter 13

Sheppard awoke the moment he was placed onto an infirmary bed, though at the time the vestiges of weariness and fever didn't allow him to realise that. It took a minute before he could push himself out of the darkness to feel what was going on. Hands were touching him; gentle hands which didn't quite mesh with the rough treatment he had received before. His tactical vest was being removed and he bought up a hand to slap them away, "I don't have anything else for you to take," he said as he prised his eyes open.

"Colonel, you're in the infirmary on Atlantis." An unfamiliar voice spoke to him and it only served to distress him more. It wasn't Beckett. The voice wasn't laced with a recognizable Scottish brogue and he panicked.

"Get off me," he said kicking out his leg. Someone held it down, again kindly, and he tried again. This time it connected with something fleshy, he rolled over and dropped down onto the hard floor, jarring his shoulder in the process.

"Colonel," he looked up to see a man in a white coat walk over to him.

Sheppard pushed himself across the floor until his back connected with something hard, "Get away from me," he said.

"It's Doctor Lewis."

Sheppard scrubbed a hand over his face. He was confused, his brain didn't seem to be making any connections and with frustration in his voice he said, "I'm not going to fight anymore."

A firm hand clamped down on his shoulder and he looked over to see Ronon kneeling beside him, "Sheppard. We got out of the cell. You're back on Atlantis."

Sheppard scanned the room, the faces looking down on him, and he turned his attention back to Ronon, "We did?" The bright lights of the infirmary were in stark contrast to the cells that they had been kept in and the smell of antiseptic, and not death, filled his nostrils. He was home.

"He's delirious," said Doctor Lewis. "_And_ he's bleeding out. We need to get him into surgery."

"It's hot in here. Why's it so hot?" he asked no one in particular. He looked down at his stomach and could see the blood soaked bandage there. He prodded it gingerly and tried to remember how that had got there. He'd been stabbed, by Ronon.

"You stabbed me?" he said distrustfully

"You have a fever. Probably the result of an infection." Doctor Lewis said.

"No, it's not me. It's the heating or something." He licked his lips and wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead. "You should fix it."

"We need to get him back onto the bed," said Doctor Lewis approaching him slowly.

"No," Sheppard shouted and held up his hands, "No," he repeated more quietly and closed his eyes to get his bearings. He snapped them open suddenly, "Did you get them out?"

"No," said Ronon. He placed a hand on his shoulder to ground him into their reality.

"You _left_ them?" Sheppard's voice was incredulous, barely suppressing his disbelief, "They'll be killed." He tried to stand and found himself being restrained, "Somebody get me a gun. I'm going back." His flailing didn't warrant a response and he couldn't quite summon enough energy to get up.

"You're in no state," said Doctor Lewis. He was very slowly losing his patience. His nursing staff were standing behind him, sharing nervous glances, Ronon was looking down at Sheppard with an intent expression.

"You're not going back."

"I am," said Sheppard, "I _told_ you to help them."

"We couldn't. There were too many." He dropped his hand from his shoulder.

"That's….." he sighed and heaved in a strained breath, "We could have done something. I'm going back."

"No."

"_Don't_ make me fight you."

Ronon smiled grimly and reacted the instant Sheppard's fist flew out at him. It connected with his chin but there was no real force behind it and instead he pinned Sheppard's hands down to the floor, "Sheppard."

"Ronon."

"You _need_ medical attention."

Sheppard shook his head, "You left them all there to die. You were there, you saw what it was like." He paused to breathe in.

"Get back up onto the bed and get treated."

Sheppard stared at him. He was feeling off keel and strange. He couldn't think straight. He was perspiring, insufferably hot and irritated by his treatment.

"We'll go back."

"Now?"  
"No, when you're better."

"They'll be dead." He spoke the words bitterly.

Ronon looked over to Doctor Lewis who was brandishing a syringe and he came to kneel beside Sheppard to administer it. Sheppard didn't protest, merely sat, his eyes blinking slowly as he watched the needle puncture his skin. They all sat there in muted silence until the drug had taken affect and Sheppard listed to one side.

"Get him back on the gurney," Doctor Lewis ordered.

-------------------------

The next time Sheppard woke he was in a better frame of mind. He licked his lips and looked over to see Beckett was fiddling with his I.V. It took a second for Beckett to realise he had woken.

"Hey Doc," he said. His throat was sore and the voice which came out sounded raspy and strained. He hated sounding so weak and pathetic.

"How are you feeling?"

Sheppard took in Beckett's appearance and then narrowed his eyes, "How are _you_ doing?"

Beckett unconsciously smoothed down the pair of scrubs he was wearing, "I'm fine."

"Hey that's my line. Shouldn't you be in bed?" Sheppard lifted up the covers and sighed, "And why do I have to wear a gown and you get scrubs?"

"The answer to both of those questions is I'm the Doctor here," said Beckett with a moan, "I wasn't badly injured and keeping me in an infirmary bed when I'm perfectly _fine_ is ridiculous. Now, how are you? Are you in any pain?"

Sheppard tested movement and felt a slight pinching at his side, "I'm good. You got me on the good drugs."

Beckett pulled a stool over to the bed and sat down with a wince, "You had some internal bleeding. You were _incredibly_ lucky."

"Yeah, not one of my better plans," he said.

"No, not really. I honestly thought Ronon had killed you."

Beckett passed him a glass of water so he could take a sip and ease the soreness in his throat.

"Other than that you're doing remarkably well. You're shoulder will be in a little discomfort for a while and other than being malnourished you should recover in no time."

Sheppard passed his glass of water back and looked down at the end of the bed, "Sorry I went a bit crazy when I came in."  
"You remember that?"

"Bits and pieces. I was confused as hell. Couldn't remember getting out."

"You passed out in the arena," said Beckett. He looked over his shoulder when one of the nurses came into the infirmary. She gave him a look up and down and then sighed.

"I'm okay," said Beckett, "And don't tell Doctor Lewis I'm out of bed."

"You know Doc. You're a really bad patient," the nurse said, "But I won't tell."

"Thank you."

"You know Doc, if I didn't know any better. I'd say you were scared of Doctor Lewis."

Beckett pushed himself off the stool, "Never."

-----------------------

Beckett awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of people talking in hushed voices. He was going to roll over and tell them all to shut up but when he prised his eyes open he saw the subject of the chatter.

He glanced over to Sheppard's bed and saw that he was gone. That was definitely a bad sign.

After fighting with the covers and dropping himself down to the floor he walked around the bed and found Doctor Lewis and Nurse Carey kneeling on the ground and talking to Sheppard, who was at current sitting in the corner of the room.

"Colonel. You might be more comfortable in your bed," said Doctor Lewis.

"What's going on?" Beckett asked as he crouched beside them.

"You should be in bed."

Beckett rolled his eyes.

Seeing Beckett was an immoveable object he supplied the truth, "He won't get back into bed."

"Why not?"

"Says he feels safe there."

"Bloody hell," Beckett shook his head, "Okay, go about your business. I'll sort this out."

"Are you trying to re-injure yourself?" asked Doctor Lewis with a pained expression. It seemed that none of his patients wanted to listen to him.

"I'm perfectly fine," said Beckett.

"Don't stay up too long."

The two Doctors left and he sat cross legged on the floor opposite Sheppard who had his eyes closed and his head leant back against the wall, "Now, I know that cant be comfortable."

"You get used to it," Sheppard said without opening his eyes.

"Want to talk about it?"

Sheppard dropped his head onto his knees and sighed.

"Can I at least get you a blanket, you must be freezing."

"I like the cold," Sheppard said into his knees. He flexed his toes on the hard floor.

"It must have been difficult to –"

"Kill people in there," Sheppard lifted his head and met his eyes with a hard cold stare.

"Yes."

"Its just……it gets so blurred. The line of killing. Sometimes its okay, sometimes its not. I'm supposed to protect people and on that last fight I killed a man. I used my military training, got him into a submissive position, and then-" he bought his hands up and twisted them violently.

"You had too."

"No, I didn't. I could have just died and let that guy win. I didn't deserve to live over him."

"You know that man you killed. I was told he was a murderer on his world. Killed fifteen people in cold blood with no thought for the consequences."

"Oh good, so he definitely deserved to die."

"That's not what I meant," Beckett readjusted his position on the floor to get more comfortable.

"I just get sick of having to make these kinds of decisions. I screwed up in there."

"You intentionally got stabbed to get a friend and many others out of there."

"Yeah," he said dryly.

"You made that decision to save me from death."

"Atlantis needs a Doctor," said Sheppard.

"And it needs a commanding officer."

"Lorne would do a fine job," said Sheppard and he dropped his hands onto the floor.

"You should get some rest, this position can't be doing your side any good."

"It feels okay. Doc, I just want to sit here for a while."

"Okay," he said with a nod, "You mind if I sit here as well?"

"As long as you don't mind getting a numb ass," he smiled.

"Well maybe I'll sit on a blanket then," said Beckett and reached up to the bed.

"Thanks doc."

-------------------

Elizabeth and Mckay entered the infirmary to find Sheppard asleep and Beckett pulling out his I.V.

"Carson," Elizabeth stepped up to the end of his bed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What are you doing?" asked Mckay.

"I'm just…." Beckett flattened down the tape on his hand, "I was just-"

"Trying to escape," said Mckay mirroring Elizabeth's pose, "I see."

"I'm perfectly well," he said with a sigh, "And Doctor Lewis wont let me out of here. I even tried to sign my own discharge sheet and he tore it up."

"We need you in one piece Carson. I'm sure it won't be for much longer." She looked over to Sheppard as he rolled over and mumbled something in his sleep, "I hear you had quite a night."

"The Colonel insisted on sitting up all night in the corner of the room. Said it made him feel safe."

Sheppard moaned and his legs twisted under the sheets.

"He's having some issues with the moral implications of what happened at the prison."

"I would too," said Elizabeth.

"I can't imagine what it was like in there," said Mckay, "It's almost strange that I wasn't caught for a change. Usually I seem to share his fate in these things."

"You can't be telling me you're jealous?" Beckett said with a small smile.

"No," Mckay snorted, "Me in those cells? I wouldn't have lasted the night."

"Well I _did_ see it and it wasn't nice. He was holed up in that cell without clean air. Forced to fight a number of times a day and beaten within an inch of his life each time."

Sheppard was suddenly startled from his sleep and he shot up in bed, gripping the railings at the side of the bed with white knuckles.

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked walking over to his bed, just as Mckay took the other side and Beckett scrambled free of his own covers.

"Bad dream," he admitted.

Beckett readjusted the bed to get it upright.

One of the nurses came in balancing two trays of food in her hands, "Anyone hungry?"

Beckett walked over to her, grabbed one tray, and sat himself back on his bed while the nurse passed Sheppard the other one. He looked down at the food with a mixture of disgust and poked at a gelatinous material on his main plate, "What is that?"

"Its frak root," said Elizabeth.

"Frak…root?"

"Its one of our new trade foods. Its very nice."

"I'm sure it is," said Sheppard with a grim smile. He reached out for his fork and poked at it some more.

"It tastes like crap."

"Rodney," Elizabeth warned.

"Well it does." He said in defence, "Tastes like feet."

"I'm not even going to ask when you ate feet," said Beckett as he dove into his own food.

"That's disgusting. I'm not saying I ate feet. I should imagine, out of all the grotesque things out there, feet are comparable."

Sheppard started to eat some of it, all the time through he was holding onto his cup with his other hand.

"I'm sure the cup isn't going to escape Colonel," said Mckay.

Sheppard looked down at what he was doing and begrudgingly let it go, all the while keeping his eyes trained on it, "Old habit," he said thinking back to his time in the cell and the number of times somebody had indeed stolen it.

"How are you feeling Colonel?" asked Elizabeth.

"Question of the day," said Sheppard as he chewed. He dropped his fork, "Feet definitely feet."

"See," said Mckay with a smug smile.

"I heard about last night," she said.

"Oh yes," said Mckay, "I'm sure that was extremely comfortable. Were you trying to get pneumonia?"

Sheppard looked up at Mckay and chewed slowly as he tried to think of a comeback. His brain was too slow and instead he settled for a, "Get bent."

"Colonel."

"What, he started it."

"You know, none of us think any different of you for what you had to do in there."

Sheppard met her eyes, "I _think_ differently of me."

_TBC_

_Only one more chapter to go. I could have his recovery go on forever but it would only be a half effort as I don't think its necessary for this story. Got to wrap it up sometime. And also Painful Reminders, my other story, (Shameless plug) needs to be finished for those that are waiting on it._

_Please review if you have time._


	14. Chapter 14

_Thank you all so much for your reviews and support. Gotta love you all._

---------------

He was fighting again, grabbing his opponent in a vice like grip, his fingers reaching round to hold his head in place, his knees in his back to arch the guy's spine and then-

Sheppard awoke suddenly, sitting up in bed with a gasp. He was drenched in sweat and he had a dull headache throbbing behind his eyes. It was the third night in a row since getting back that he had awoken in this manner, feeling sick and shaky, and pervaded by an ever increasing guilt.

He looked around the darkness of the infirmary. Beckett had been released the day previous and the room was still and quiet. Not even the usual milling about of nurses and staff took place.

He pushed aside the covers and swung his legs around to hop off the bed.

As his feet touched down onto the cold floor he heard some movement beside his bed and then a voice, "Where are you going?"

Sheppard turned, blinked through the din, and recognised the hulking form of Ronon, "I'm going to my room," he stated simply.

"Beckett told you to stay in bed."

Sheppard pulled his gown tightly at the back and walked over to him, his I.V tugging at his hand when he moved. He stopped and started to lift the tape, "I just want to go and get something from my room."

Ronon stood up from his place beside the bed and crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm going to get Beckett."

"No," said Sheppard holding up his good hand, "Look. I just want to get something and then I'll be _right_ back. If I'm longer than half an hour I give you permission to haul me back here."

Ronon seemed to consider the request for a second but then asked suddenly, "What's wrong with you?"

Sheppard narrowed his eyes at him, "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with _you_? I haven't seen any evidence that you've been affected by what _you_ had to do in there." He crossed his own arms, mostly in a bid to keep warm, but chiefly to show Ronon he was serious in his accusation.

Ronon merely shrugged, "Did what I had to."

Sheppard stared at him dumb founded, "You don't care at all?"  
"I care. But I also value my life."

Sheppard leant against his bed.

"It would seem that you don't value yours."

"I do," said Sheppard. The moment those words came out of his mouth, he knew them to be a lie. He didn't see any problem with being concerned or self sacrificing. When it came down to it he could be counted on and often had to make the hard decisions for his team and city. Killing sixty Genii soldiers had been no picnic but he'd done it.

"You wouldn't fight, you were willing to be killed and then when you _do_ fight you blame yourself for not having died."

"The military is supposed to protect civilians," said Sheppard, "That's what I'm supposed to be doing here and it doesn't change when I'm off-world."

"You're an idiot." He must have learnt that word off Rodney.

"Excuse me."  
"You heard me."  
"I'm going to my room," said Sheppard and he tugged out his I.V and then stalked towards the door. He was surprised that Ronon didn't follow, but then he assumed he was already radioing Beckett about his escape. He didn't care. There was something in his room that he wanted, he couldn't remember where he'd put it and it bothered him immensely.

He arrived at it in two transporter stops and managed to get into his room before anybody could see him in his rather fetching backless gown. First thing he did when he got in there was struggle into some sweats and a black t-shirt. He was panting and sweating by the time he managed to wrestle his top over his head. One quick check revealed he hadn't pulled any stitches and he was glad to be in clothes which didn't have a handy air vent at the back.

He set about going through his drawers, placing discarded items to the side of him, as he searched. After shifting almost the entire contents of his room he found what he was looking for and sat on his floor. He held the dog tags up in front of his face and read the intricate engraving on the surface.

_Colonel Marshall Sumner_.

When times got tough he'd bring these out and try to seek some kind of resolve from them. He knew it didn't bring Sumner back and he knew there was never an overt answer, but just by reminding himself of the man who he had taken the life of first on this mission, often helped him get things straight in his own mind. He'd get to this cross road and then try to imagine what Sumner would have done. After all, if things had gone another way, he would still be his Commanding Officer.

He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to go back to that planet. He needed to. _Had_ to.

He was sitting in silence, holding the tags up to his eye line and watching them sway when his doors opened and Beckett, Ronon and Mckay burst in. They stopped and looked down at him. He guessed they had been expecting to find him unconscious and in need of medical care and instead they found him sitting on his floor staring at a chain.

"Colonel, what are you doing?" Beckett sat on the bed next to where Sheppard was sitting on the floor.

Sheppard palmed the dog tags, "I wanted a change of clothes," he said shoving the tags into his pocket.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," said Beckett.

"No, you shouldn't," said Mckay with a sigh, "And I shouldn't be woken up from my own bed to be on the search party to find you."

"You knew I'd come down to my room," Sheppard said to Ronon.

"What?" Mckay sighed, "You knew all along?" He yawned for effect.

"He could have changed tact's," said Ronon with a shrug.

"Well, I didn't and as you can see I'm okay and I'm coming back to the infirmary."

"Well, _I'm_ going back to bed. Get some sleep Sheppard," said Mckay as he disappeared out of the room.

Beckett helped Sheppard up to his feet, "When can I get out of the infirmary?" Sheppard asked as they left his room.

"Not for a while longer. You're still healing."

Ronon walked behind them as their shadow as Sheppard used his hands along the walls to keep his balance.

"Well either way. I'm going back to that planet tomorrow morning."

Beckett reached out for his arm, "I'm afraid that won't be possible."  
Sheppard spun round to look at him, "I'm not _asking_ Doc. I'm going."  
"Why?" asked Ronon as he stepped between the two of them.

"Because……. this is eating me up with guilt," he admitted and surprised himself. Ah to hell with it, for once he was going to do something for himself. It wasn't productive for him to be feeling sorry for himself and if the only way to overcome it was this then he was going to do it, "I want to go back and see if there's anything left there."

"And what if the Syth won and they attack you?"  
"We'll be in a Jumper in stealth. I just need to see with my own eyes what state I left that place in. If prisoners did survive some of them could be injured and in need of help."

"Elizabeth won't allow it," said Beckett.

"She will if you say I'm medically fit to go."

"You know I won't do that."

"Beckett, you, me and Ronon. We saw that place. We lived it." He locked eyes with him, " I need this."

Beckett pushed him on, "I'll think about it."

------------------

When the Jumper landed in the arena and the team stepped out into it Sheppard stopped at the bay door to survey the area. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard that it felt as though it was going to burst through and out onto the floor.

"You okay?" Beckett asked. He'd made it a point to come with him. He wasn't firm in his support for him to go off world but he knew that it would be therapeutic for Sheppard to do so.

Sheppard readjusted his hold on his P90 and stepped forward, "I'm good Doc."

The arena was deathly quiet, and the smell that assaulted them was over powering and unmistakable as death. Blood splattered the arena walls and the air seemed thick.

Sheppard turned to Mckay as he was looking at his laptop and asked, "Any life signs?"

"None."

Sheppard nodded, "Okay fan out." He didn't know what he was expecting to find. He guessed by now it was morbid curiosity coupled with facing his demons.

As the rest of the team disappeared he set off through the hole in the arena wall and moved upwards to the galley area. He passed a few bodies in the corridors, stepping over them carefully, and apprehensively glancing at them for signs of movement.

When he arrived at the galley he was wasn't fully prepared for what he saw there. He had seen death, witnessed it in war, and been able to be detached from it, but many of the bodies lying about the place he had got to know by association and he felt his mouth go dry. He placed his hand over his mouth to staunch the smell.

What he did notice was there were a lot of Syth bodies around. Broken and bleeding, hands reaching out in one last attempt to get away, eyes open and unseeing.

"You okay Sir?" Lorne asked when he came up to the galley and saw Sheppard leaning over one of the bodies.

"We could have prevented this," Sheppard said getting up into a standing position. He felt his side flare up with the memories this place was affording him and didn't turn back.

"A lot of the bodies appear to be the.."

"Syth."

"It looks like some of the prisoners got out of here."

Sheppard threw him a look over his shoulder, "That's something I guess."

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you beating yourself up about this?" Lorne asked as he stepped over a body and came to stand beside his commanding officer.

There was no answer. He could see that Sheppard was paling; his demeanour was one of taught pain, his mouth creased into a wince.

"When I was in Iraq I was a prisoner of war," said Lorne trailing his eyes over the seats and the red and black blood. His own memories forcing him into a state of trance where every feeling and smell gave him sensory overload.

"I read your file," said Sheppard walking over to one of the seats and sitting down on it. He rested his P90 across his knees and listened to the distant chatter of the rest of the teams as they searched the complex. Their voices echoed toward them and he couldn't help but think back to the pained echoes in the cells and the roar of the chanting crowds who watched the bloody fights.

"You know. I was in a cell for three weeks," said Lorne as he leant against the balcony. He kept his stance loose and informal. Sheppard wasn't the type of officer who commanded that of his men. He never stood on formality and that was why Lorne liked him. He saw it as respect, a comfortable ease, not an insult.

"I got to know the guy, the Iraqi, who bought me food. We often talked. I wouldn't go as far to say we were friends but there was a mutual respect there."

Sheppard wasn't looking at him; he was staring down at the dead Syth at his feet.

"When it came down to it and I had a chance to escape, he stood in my way."

"What did you do?" asked Sheppard as he rubbed at his face. His own POW memories returning to haunt him alongside his present ones.

"We fought. He was fighting for what he believed in and I was fighting for what I believed in. Didn't mean I condoned it all the same, that's just the way it was." Lorne looked down at the Jumper and could see that Mckay was standing in the doorway. Obviously nervous. He smiled softly. "Neither of us had a choice. He couldn't just let me walk free and I wanted to live."

"I snapped a guy's neck. He wasn't fighting for that kind of cause. He was a civilian," Sheppard edged forward in his seat and leant forward.

Lorne took a gamble, stepped forwards and dropped his hand down onto Sheppard's shoulder. He expected him to flinch away or lash out but he didn't react at all.

Sheppard looked up at him.

"Of course he was Sir. He was fighting for _his_ survival and so were you."

Sheppard nodded slowly and then dropped his head wearily down to the floor.

"There's nothing here," said Ronon as he joined them on the galley. He looked at the two men, standing inches apart, their faces reflecting a conversation of pain and sorrow.

Sheppard stood up, could feel the sweat collecting on his forehead, warning him of impending strain or perhaps collapse, and weaved his way towards the exit, "Time to go," he said. He reattached his P90 to his fist, his hands were still shaking. He knew he wouldn't get over this overnight but Lorne had certainly put things into perspective for him. He'd make a good Commanding Officer one day.

"Are you okay?" he heard Lorne ask him as they moved down the corridor.

Sheppard turned to him, "I think so. I survived didn't I?"

THE END

_Hope this all felt okay. Felt natural to leave it there. After all what else could be said. You could go round in circles with this kind of moral dilemma._


End file.
